


Three of Hearts

by busylefeitz



Category: Divergent (Movies), Divergent - All Media Types, Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Drabble, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face-Sitting, First Time, Fluff and Crack, Hand Jobs, Lemons, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Multi, No war, Oral Sex, Other, Polyfidelity, Porn with Feelings, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Slow Burn, Threesome - F/M/M, gay relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:16:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 60,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23787700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/busylefeitz/pseuds/busylefeitz
Summary: Fear doesn’t shut her down, it wakes her up, that’s what he told her. She lets the fear pulse through his fingertips and into her skin and she leans into it, into him. “Kiss me,” she commands.----This is a Tris/Eric/Four triad fic. Mostly drabble and lemons, with extremely hand-waved plot. No war. Tris isn't afraid of sex, and everyone is of age. Character looks based more on movies, sometimes OOC, canon divergent.
Relationships: Eric/Four | Tobias Eaton, Eric/Tris Prior, Eric/Tris Prior/Four | Tobias Eaton, Four | Tobias Eaton/Tris Prior
Comments: 28
Kudos: 141





	1. JUMP

Pledging Dauntless is scary. The thought of it makes Tris’ heart beat faster, her face feel hot, and her head swim. And yet, it also makes some strange feeling grow in her gut, something like desire. Somehow that realization makes it so much easier for her to make her decision.

It’s not surprising, now that she thinks about it, that the bowls for Dauntless and Abnegation in the choosing ceremony are so similar—both rock—but it is their differences that proves to Tris which bowl is right for her. The one, Abnegation, contains the smoothest of stones. She imagines their cool soft edges that slide easily across one another. The other, jagged and uneven, a fire building inside. She knows herself enough to know which resembles her more.

She makes her choice and soon she is chasing a hundred Dauntless down dozens of flights of stairs and jumping onto a moving train and speeding away, away from everything she’d known before. She nearly chokes on the freedom.

“Someone’s got to go first, who’s it gonna be?” a blonde man built like a tank asks, his lips pressed into a line and his stance rough and intimidating.

They’ve jumped onto the top of a building in the Dauntless compound, and now he—Eric, Tris thinks he said—is asking them to jump back off. Down a hole. Into nothing. And suddenly her choice becomes clear again. This is what she came here for, to jump into the unknown.

“Me,” Tris’ voice cracks, and giggles and gasps radiate through the group of initiates around her. She can hardly believe it herself.

Eric hides his irritation. Normally he has to intimidate and threaten the initiates a lot more to get someone to take that first jump, and she barely waits for him to finish asking before she volunteers? He’s a tad disappointed that he doesn’t get to have his fun, but watching a _stiff_ jump first gets even more under his skin.

But then she steps off the wall. She doesn’t even scream as she plummets into darkness, but he swears he hears a tiny whoop when she hits the net, and he clenches his jaw so as not to smile. Everyone screams when they jump, everyone. He even remembers letting out a bit of a squeak of his own on his jump, though he’d never admit it.

At the bottom of the hole, Tris stares up at the sky above the net in wonder before a strong hand grips her arm and rolls her towards the edge. The owner of said hands lifts her easily from the net, setting her on the ground. “What, did someone push you?” the man asks, incredulous. Tris notices his hand lingers on the fabric of her dress.

“No” Tris replies easily, taking in the sights around her. When she looks back, his eyes are on her in a way she has never quite had eyes on her.

They study her.

She’s used to being invisible. Abnegation is meant to blend into the background, never make themselves the center of attention. This lingering stare reminds her that she’s not in Abnegation anymore, and here things will be different.

He can’t be more than a couple years older than her, she thinks, studying him back. He has a strong, narrow build and holds himself stiffly straight. His voice is deep and solid, though soft enough that she feels like only she can hear him.

He introduces himself as Four, and offers her a chance to choose her own name (Tris, rather than Beatrice she decides) before introducing her to the rest of the waiting Dauntless. They cheer her new moniker, and it bounces off the cavern walls. _Tris._ Four steals one glance at the surprising new stiff before turning his attention back to the net to wait for the next jumper.

That first day Tris (and all the other transfer initiates) follows Four through the caverns and the Pit, learning about their new faction and what training will be like.

Four has a quiet authority about him, and even when Christina, the Candor girl Tris jumped from the train with, challenges him, he barely raises his voice above a gravelly whisper. His nostrils flare, and Tris notices the tattoos peaking out of his shirt ripple as the muscles in his neck clench, but he doesn’t lift a hand.

When Tris herself challenges him (asking if he was also a transfer or if he is Dauntless-born), later that night in the mess hall, he doesn’t give her the same quiet reaming he gave Christina. He looks her up and down, deciding how to react to this insolent Abnie. He grits his teeth to hold back his words and instead offers a firm warning, “Careful.”

 _Or what_? Tris thinks. They’ve already made her jump off a building, what could they possibly threaten now? She bites the inside of her cheek to stop herself from pushing back. But isn’t that what Dauntless do? They challenge each other? She feels a tiny bit of pride that her words are able to wound him enough to garner this kind of response, when he barely acknowledges the rest of the raucous banter around him.

That night she and Christina wind their way through the corridors and tunnels around the Pit until they find a tattoo parlor. Tris wanders aimlessly through the stacks of tattoo designs until her eyes cross a small piece of flash: three ravens in flight. Three. One for each person she left behind to be here. She gets her first tattoo that night, and doesn’t tell anyone what it means.

In the training room the next morning Four and Eric are both waiting for the initiates. To the eye, they are polar opposites: Four is lean and toned, his body tight and covered head to toe in leather gear. His dark curly hair offset by the impossibly clear gaze of his blue eyes. Eyes that always seem to bore right through whoever they capture, made more threatening by the perpetually pinched brow framing them. He is clean-shaven, and his complete lack of visible tattoos and piercings sets him apart from the other men of Dauntless—then Tris remembers the tiny black lines peaking out from under his collar, and can’t help but wonder how Dauntless he might look with his shirt off.

Eric, on the other hand, is blonde with stormy grey eyes, his hair shaved on one side and his long wavy locks hanging over the other. His face is pebbled with piercings and dermals, his full lips frozen in a permanent smirk. Bursting with muscles, his massive arms displayed visibly in his sleeveless tank. He is the picture of Dauntless. Tris’ eyes dance across the maze-like tattoos that zig-zag up and around his forearms, tracing the paths to wherever they lead. Eric catches her in her gaze, and Tris looks quickly down at her feet.

The two begin to explain how initiation will work, and, most surprisingly, who will get cut. “You chose us. Now we get to choose you.” Eric’s eyes land directly on Tris as he says these last words. He pins her with his steely gaze for a moment, before resuming his speech. Is he telling her she is already at risk of being cut? His stare feels like a threat, but that only emboldens her. She can do this. She can prove she is Dauntless enough to be here.

The next night as she’s cleaning her wounds from her first miserable fight, she wonders if she was completely wrong.

Her stubbornness keeps her going, and Eric is almost shocked to see her walk in to training early after the beating she took.

“First jumper, right?”

She starts at the sound of his voice, but keeps walking towards the punching bags.

“Yea.”

“Impressive,” he says, but his voice doesn’t sound impressed.

“Thanks.” She pulls her tape out of her gear bag.

“Come early to play catch up?”

“Just taking whatever time I can get,” she retorts.

“Ahh, I like that, stiff. Already showing some Dauntless desire.” His voice is calm and smooth and just a bit quieter than his normal bark.

“Desire?” She tries to sound impartial, focusing on wrapping the tape on her knuckles.

He waits for a moment, then walks right up behind her until she can feel his breath tickling the hairs on her neck. “You want this.” It’s a statement of fact.

Tris desperately focuses on the tape to keep her breathing steady. She can feel his body heat from inches away. “I don’t know what you mean,” she lies. She feels a bit like a coward in that moment, but he quickly backs away and leans against the mats in the center of the training room.

“Dauntless, stiff, or haven’t you been listening? You want to be here.”

“Oh, well yea of course.”

“Good.”

“Good?”  
“I like a challenge.”

He saunters out of the room, and Tris is left with a million questions, but most importantly what did he mean by challenge? Is he wanting to get her cut from Dauntless? Or saying it will be difficult to get her good enough to stay?

Either way she feels her blood heating up and the rage spills out through her arm and her fist connects with the bag, rattling the chain for the first time.

“Not bad,” a deep voice greets her.

She turns quickly, expecting Eric again, wondering if Eric had set that whole conversation up just to get her to channel her rage. Why are Dauntless so mysterious about everything? Instead, she finds Four, giving her small amused smile.

“It’s not bad,” he repeats. “Your technique is all right, but you’re weak.”

Tris groans. She’s heard this critique a million times already.

“You need to focus on what you do have, use your size and your speed to evade and your elbows and knees to attack.”

His hand grips her arm, near her elbow, and maneuvers it in a slicing arc across her body at half speed.

He releases her and she feels the heat from where his hand was touching like an imprint. She repeats the move a couple times at the same speed. “Like this?”

“Good, keep it up.” He eases away from her just as the rest of the initiates start to trickle in. The absence of his body next to hers makes her shiver suddenly. No one here seems to have space bubbles like in Abnegation, so she decides she can’t either. She shakes it off and pulls her elbow up to strike.

That night in the mess hall Tris finds herself staring at a chocolate muffin. She has a plate full of the Dauntless equivalent of Abnegation plain food: a slice of bread, a chicken breast, steamed vegetables. Right now, she’s holding an apple as if she is inspecting it, but her eyes are locked on a muffin.

“Take the muffin,” a gravelly voice startles her. She snaps her eyes up and sees Four standing just behind her with his tray. “You need the calories right now. Take it. Take two.” He offers her what seems to be a shy smile, but that can’t be possible because Tris is pretty sure Four does not smile. But his eyes hesitate on her for a moment, and the deep blue pulls her in, and in a heartbeat he’s gone.

Tris blinks back her focus and grabs the muffin. She also grabs the apple. Old habits die hard.

After dinner, Christina convinces Will and Tris to go back and get another tattoo. Tris had three ravens done on her collarbone her first night in Dauntless, a tribute to her parents and Caleb. Tonight she picks out a small Dauntless symbol, flickering flames ringed in a circular badge.

Tris leaves the tattoo parlor an hour later, abandoning Christina to finish her extensive 5 hour back piece with Will, the initiate boy her new friend has been pining over for days. Chris’d thank her later.

Outside the parlor, Tris decides to leave off her jacket, letting the fresh tattoo air out, leaving her in a tank top she would have felt far too modest to wear in public even last week. She pulls her hair away from where it touches her new ink, slinging it over the opposite shoulder.

She meanders down the first tunnel corridor back to the Pit, taking the longer path to try to connect the dots of the compound in her mind. As she wanders, she comes across some of the exercise facilities and takes a peak inside.

The first room is a spacious pool, dug out of the stone and lit from underneath. Tris is staring wide-eyed, when she sees the figure on the other end of the pool swimming towards her. The figure bobs under the surface, jetting across the pool’s length in one motion, and pops back up on the edge nearest her feet.

“Did you come to get wet with me?” Eric smiles at Tris devilishly, holding himself up on the stone edge of the pool nearest her feet. She scowls at him.

“No, I was just exploring.”

“Oh? And what were you exploring?” He pulls himself up out of the pool easily, and stands in front of her, dripping. Tris looks around her, anywhere but at his exposed chest, and tightly clinging trunks. Did she really just think about Eric’s trunks? Fuck, this is embarrassing.

Her eyes dart around as if she will spot a good answer to his question, but finally he rescues her by speaking again. “New ink?” His hand trails a breath away from the still sensitive flames, but his eyes dip to the low edge of her tank top before reconnecting with hers.

“Oh! Yea it’s the Dauntless symbol!” Tris answers happily, grateful for the change in topic.

“I can see that.” Eric deadpans. Right, of course, Tris thinks. “It suits you.” Eric winks and turns his back to her, diving gracefully back into the pool.

Tris honestly never thought she would call Eric graceful, but here we are. It makes sense that he’s a swimmer, she thinks, considering his shoulder to hip ratio makes a perfect triangle and he has the muscle definition of a greek god.

Suddenly Tris realizes that she’s just been standing here watching him do his laps for who knows how long, and she shifts awkwardly, heading back to the entrance.

“Goodnight stiff!” Eric calls out from the pool just as she rounds the corner back into the corridor.

The flush on her cheeks feels hot, and Tris swears she can feel a pulse drumming hard between her thighs as she rushes back to the initiate dorms.

Emboldened by her run in with Eric, the next morning at breakfast Tris asks Christina if she will take her clothing shopping after training. Christina squeals with glee and bombards Tris with questions about her personal style and suggestions for styles she should try.

That afternoon they meet by the canteen and Chris shows her some of the shops she has already explored in just the first few days. Christina shoves dress after dress towards Tris, insisting she try everything on.

In the dressing room, Tris stares at herself in the mirror. She never used to look in the mirror. In Abnegation, she only saw herself in the mirror in brief glances. Now she takes in her body.

Even though she’d only seen it for a few seconds at a time, the body she saw before hardly resembles the one staring back at her now. That body was tiny and fragile, knobby kneed and slouched. This body is strong. Her narrow frame is expanding a little to accommodate the extra muscle and fat. Where before she thought her body boyish, now she feels very much like a woman. Even though she still isn’t voluptuous, the muscles add curves to her silhouette in ways she might even call beautiful. If not beautiful, then certainly striking. Noticeable.

She smiles a little at the thought. She’d never seen herself as attractive, but she wonders now if that was because she’d never seen herself at all.

She runs her hands across her exposed midriff—the dress Christina had her try on had some strangely placed cut-outs. Her skin shudders slightly at her own touch, and she is reminded of how little touch she had in Abnegation. Her parents barely touched her, and if they did it was brief.

She had never known how touch-starved she was until the first night in Dauntless when Christina wrapped her in a big goodnight hug. Since then touch has been wielded so lightly around her: a hug before bed, a slap on the shoulder, a playful jab, a firm handshake. People jostled and bumped one another all day without even a thought.

At first it scared her. She felt like every touch would be as violent as her sparring matches. Now she relishes it. There has been pain, sure, but there has been so much tenderness. Every touch now is a revelation, though she still struggles with how to instigate that touch herself. Maybe in this dress she wouldn’t have to…

But no matter how good she looks, she is never wearing this dress in public.

She shrugs out of the dress and tries on at least a dozen more before Chris pulls her to the next store. She lets Christina talk her into a couple nicer dresses, despite a certainty that she will never have occasion to wear them.

She’s modeling a black sundress dress for Christina that Tris thinks is stupidly impractical (lots of straps and swishy fabric) when she spots Four standing outside the shop window. He’s just looking at her, a shy smile on his face. When he notices her looking back his face turns into a practiced scowl and he marches off down the corridor.

…She buys that dress. She also buys a few more tops that show just a bit more skin than she’s used to. Baby steps.

The next morning at training Four sends a strange sad glance to Tris as she works on her punching bag. She feels somehow responsible, though she can’t think why. She has never dealt well with conflict and even though he hasn’t said anything to suggest there is a conflict she can just feel the tension in her bones. She nearly breaks her wrist on the last swing, yelping loudly, her fist grazing rather than connecting with its target. She’s completely unfocused.

Four abruptly joins her, probably to scold her for the poor form she just displayed. Instead he calmly asks, “What happened?” as if to debrief some technical error. Except the technical error is that Tris’ brain is all over the place, in large part due to the weird looks Four keeps sending her.

But she can’t say that, so instead she just offers, “I wasn’t focused.”

“What were you thinking about?” _You,_ she thinks, but she definitely can’t say that either. She wants to be bold though, and wants to release some of this tension between them.

“The impracticality of a black sundress,” she says, trying to sound funny and sarcastic. She realizes she should probably not admit to her brain being that far off subject in training, but she hasn’t gotten this far by doing what she’s supposed to do. She’s also slightly concerned that he will feel called out by the comment, but he seems to not remember at all.

When Four just looks at her blankly, she adds, “Christina took me shopping last night. Made me try some of the most ridiculous things. Why would a Dauntless ever wear something so… fluffy?”

He considers this a moment, glancing at her in a way that makes her stomach do a little flip. He leans in to whisper, “It’s good to let them see you as soft.” And then he’s gone.

By lunch Tris decides she could use a break from the intensity of Dauntless. She hasn’t quite gotten used to the constant noise, the fast movements, the sensory overload. Her head spins. Most of the time this feeling makes her light up, like the feeling of riding your bike down a steep hill for the first time, dangerous and free. But right now she just wants to spend her lunch hour somewhere quiet.

She asks some of the older Dauntless who sit with them at lunch, Uriah’s older brother Zeke, and his girlfriend Shauna. Zeke tells her that there’s a small library room, mostly for the dependents, and nearly always abandoned. Perfect.

She makes her way up the paths circling the Pit until she reaches a side corridor that runs past miscellaneous office spaces. A few turns down this offshoot she stumbles on the Library.

Before she even opens the door, she sees him. Eric. He’s lounging haphazardly across an armchair, nose buried in a thick book. Tris is so thrown by this sight that she doesn’t even realize when she opens the door and steps inside.

Eric’s eyes dart up from the book and when he sees her something flashes across his face, before his face falls into his practiced irritated smirk and he rolls his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” he looks back at his book, as if he barely registered the disruption.

“I could ask the same about you!” Tris blurts out, not unkindly, and, before she can catch her runaway tongue, “Never pictured you reading!”

Eric cocks his head up at her. “Why, because I’m too pretty?”

“You think _you’re_ pretty?” she laughs.

“Would you like it if people thought you couldn’t be a good fighter because you’re too pretty?” Eric’s tone is threatening, but his eyes do something to Tris.

“Now you think _I’m_ pretty?” she can’t help but push him back.

He visibly controls whatever his first reaction is and sighs heavily. “I think you are…frustrating.” He offers no further explanation, returning to his book with renewed focus.

Tris wanders the small space, peaking at various books and reading the labels on the shelves, but without picking anything up. If she’s being honest with herself, she wouldn’t even know what to look for. Reading for pleasure is considered selfish in Abnegation, and even though she’s smart she never liked the readings in school.

She gives up and turns back to Eric.

“What are you reading?” she ventures.

He clenches his jaw, but lowers his book.

“It’s called _The Last War._ ” When she doesn’t speak, he continues. “It’s about the theory behind why the faction system is a panacea for war.”  
“Oh. That sounds…”

“Dry? It is. Here, if you’re looking for something to read…” he stands and goes over to a shelf to his right, like he knows exactly what he’s looking for. “Try this.” He tosses the book to Tris, and she catches it, flipping it over to read the cover.

“ _Pride and Prejudice_?”

“It’s from before the war. Read it. You might learn something.” And with that he returns to his book.

She sits in another chair, tucking her legs under herself. She cracks open the old book and the smell of old paper and dust was out, a halo of nostalgia floating in the air.

“I said read it, not sniff it, stiff,” Eric chastises, without ever looking up from his book.

So Tris sits and reads. She can’t remember the last time she just sat and read for fun. She gets into a rhythm, turn page, scan, breathe, turn page, her steady pace about half the speed of Eric’s swift reading.

She gets so caught up in this that she almost forgets to go back for afternoon training. When she catches the time, she jumps out of her seat, and scans the room for where to put the book.

“Take it,” Eric answers her unasked question, nose still stuck in his book. “No one will notice.” The corner of his lip barely turns up into a smile.

She smiles back and runs out of the room with her new book.

Tris saunters into training, carrying her new book and a lazy smile. Tris spots Four, and her eyes widen into a brighter smile. Four’s eyebrows furrow when he sees her, and Tris’ smile fades quickly. He looks disappointed in her, but she can’t think why.

She walks to her locker and throws the book in, exchanging it for her training side-arm.

Eric appears in the back of the shooting gallery sometime in the afternoon. Tris is too focused on outshooting the ever-gloating Peter that she hasn’t looked around in a while, so who knows how long he’s been watching her.

Because that’s what he’s doing now. He’s watching her.

Tris catches a glimpse of Four stalking towards Eric with a scowl before she reloads her weapon and refocuses on the target in front of her.

Several yards behind Tris, Four invades Eric’s space, eyes like daggers. “What’s your game, Eric?”  
“I can’t think what you mean, Four,” Eric teases. He’s playing dumb, but in this case he’s actually not sure what Four means, but he doesn’t want to show his hand just yet.

“With _her_.” Four practically spits the word.

“Her? Who? The _Stiff?”_ At the look on Four’s face, Eric continues, his words like a surgical blade. “I know _you_ have a particular interest in _stiffs_ ,” Eric eyes Four knowingly, “but I assure you my only goal is the success of my initiates.” Eric pushes off the wall and walks away, leaving Four seething quietly.

Tris finishes her clip just in time to hear Four call out a switch to rifles. She dismantles her weapon and returns to the gun locker to exchange it for her rifle. As she nears her locker, Four intercepts her, grabbing her forcefully by the bicep.

“Be careful, Tris,” Four whispers warningly.

Tris looks confused, but she doesn’t try to get out of his grasp. “I’ve shot a rifle before, Four. You showed me yourself,” she reminds him as if she’s talking to a toddler.

“No, I mean..some of the other leaders are watching you. Not everyone in Dauntless is as—selfless—as you,” he seems to pick the word out of a hat, “and you would do well to remember that.” He releases her and stalks back to his post.

When she shoots her rifle, she pictures Four’s face. She isn’t sure why. She definitely doesn’t want to kill him, not like she wants to kill Peter sometimes. But she can’t get him out of her head.

Her aim is true.


	2. AT LEAST TRY THE CAKE

The next few days proceed this same way. Eric teases her, goads her on, and Four gives thinly veiled warnings and whispered hints. Tris wonders, absently, if the other initiates are having the same experience she is.

The tips from Four, though given in the strangest ways, are actually incredibly helpful. Tris slowly improves over the next week, building up muscle mass on her small frame, but also discovering how best to use that smallness to get inside her opponents blocks, offering her easy access for attacks. She spins the moves in her head, and watches as her work pays off, her name slowly creeping up the initiate ranking board.

At the end of the week, Tris comes in to the training room early one morning to check the board before training starts.

Her name is just below the cutoff line. She’d moved up nearly ten spaces, and she is only a few points away from making it to the next round.

She nearly squeals with excitement. She can do this, she thinks. She’s so close she can taste it.

A sound behind her sends her spinning around, and she sees Four coming in and walking towards his locker. Her stomach does a strange flop but she ignores it.

“Four! Did you see the rankings?” she calls out excitedly, running over to meet him.

“Yes. I did,” he says sternly, standing stone still as she approaches.

She stops in front of him at the tone of his voice. “Did you see I've moved up?”

Somewhere in her mind she knows he was a part of making the rankings, so of course he’s seen them. She just wants to hear him say she did well. She thinks that’s it.

“Still below the line,” he growls.

“Yes, but—“ she tries to interject.

“Not good enough,” he barks, practically spitting.

Something about his eyes is terrifying. She looks at him like she might speak, but he keeps going.

“You can’t just fuck around anymore, Tris! You need to get your ass together if you want to stay here—if you want to be Dauntless!"

Somehow during his yelling, he backs Tris up against the lockers. He stares at her, fuming, and his hips press into hers. His eyes search hers, and behind the intensity she recognizes something: fear.

What is he afraid of?

Still trapped between his firm grip and the cold metal locker, she reaches up one hand and lightly strokes the side of his face. She has no idea what compels her to do it.

He startles backwards at the touch, and for a second his face looks completely bewildered, then guilt takes over.

“I'm so sorry Tris. I just—I just don’t want you to leave,” he confesses.

She reaches her hand out to touch his forearm. “Me either.”

Their eyes hold each other for the briefest pause before a loud coughing in the doorway interrupts them and they break apart.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Eric says cooly. Four doesn’t acknowledge Eric, nor does he look back at Tris, and instead continues putting his gear into his locker. Tris, unsure what to do with herself just smiles a strained smile at Eric and heads over to her punching bag.

Halfway through morning training, Eric decides to split the group up. He lists off half the initiates and sends them with Four to work more on knife throwing, keeping behind the “better shots” to work more on hand-to-hand skills. Tris is a bit surprised that Eric considers her a better shot, but she also is grateful to have a bit more time to work on her punches.

“I know that you stiffs normally like to stick together,” Eric lets the accusation drip like honey as he circles behind Tris, who stands in front of her punching bag.

Four had walked by just before Eric split the groups. He’d whispered a tiny compliment in her ear, brushing his fingers down her arm. “Looking stronger today,” he’d said.

Eric had witnessed the interaction. Eric saw her blush and curl her mouth up in a shy smile as Four walked on to observe other initiates.

Tris feels the venom in his voice, but can’t understand his meaning. What stiffs has she been sticking with?

Eric speaks quietly enough that only she can hear him, but surely the other initiates can see him standing so close to her, looking at her like his next meal.

She clenches her jaw but doesn’t let him see her react. She stays facing her punching bag. He’s a little impressed. And a little more insistent. “I'm not saying come to the dark side or anything, but at least try the cake?” His hand trails across her stomach lightly, leaving an edge of fire on her skin in its wake.

She shivers and he notices.

He places his hand more firmly on her lower stomach, his pinky just barely scraping the waistband of her pants. He feels her stomach curl into his palm like she is liquid under his touch. She must be beet red, but he can’t see her flushed cheeks from behind her.

“Not so stiff after all,” his voice like hot butter and cinnamon, just behind her ear. “Good,” he decides, slowly using his grip on her stomach and his other hand on her back to manipulate her body until she is in the exact position he desires. “There, like that.” He pats her on her head like a child and walks away.

Damnit she hates him.

Or she doesn’t.

And according to strange fire deep in her belly, part of her really doesn’t hate him. But he pisses her off so much sometimes. He is arrogant, aggressive, demeaning, and damnit why did he think he could just put his hands on her like that? He made her so—

“That’s it stiff!” Eric booms from across the training room, shaking Tris out of her internal rant. She looks up to see that she had been punching her bag so hard the entire apparatus is swinging violently. Several other initiates are eying her now. But so is Eric, and Tris can’t help but think that his wicked grin looks so sexy when she knows it’s because of her.

She smiles to herself, shakes out her wrists, and drops back into position.

Christina isn’t doing as well as Tris now. She’d started off great, tough as nails, but she kept being put against bigger and better opponents. This one, Molly, hates Tris and Christina and is clearly putting that anger to good use on the mat right now. She pummels Christina’s face, her eyes swelling shut and her fists flailing blindly, rarely connecting.

Molly’s uppercut finds the side of Christina’s jaw, and Christina goes down, crying out, “Stop, no more, I'm done!” as she sinks into the mat.

Eric’s nostrils flare and his jaw clenches. He had just said, not five minutes ago, that you can’t concede until you can’t get up. He doesn’t understand why the initiates this year are so obstinate, when he is trying to help them save their own asses someday, and maybe even save someone else. Like he couldn’t.

“You’re lucky those weren’t the rules when you and I fought, _Two,_ ” Four had chided him, when he’d announced the new policy about not conceding.

Lucky? Eric’s mind pours over this word, this accusation. If he’d been taught the way he was teaching this class, maybe he wouldn’t have…maybe he could have—the thought had stewed and turned over and taken over his mind all the way up until Christina’s concession brought him back to attention.

He pulls her up off the mat roughly, and starts leading her out of the training room and through the Pit. The initiates follow behind in a confused cluster. When he gets to the ledge over the chasm, he releases her. “Climb over,” he orders.

“What? No!” Christina screams.

“Climb. Over.” His tone is dark.

“You can’t make her do that!” Tris is stunned to hear her own voice jumping out of her mouth, and by the look on his face, Eric is too.

“Can’t I?” He steps away from Christina, and takes a step towards Tris. “I'm a Dauntless leader. I can do anything. I. want.” Despite his snarl, Tris recognizes the childishness in his words. “And right now, I want to teach this insubordinate Candor,” he turns and fixes his glare back on Christina, “that in Dauntless, giving up is not an option.”

He’s about to lift her over the rail himself, when Tris speaks up again behind him.

“I'm not giving up.”

Eric holds back a grin, and instead stares daggers at her. This stiff has guts. Even Christina is emboldened by Tris’ move.

“Me either. Let me fight.”

“Oh yea? You can fight now?” Chris nods. “Good. You fight the stiff.”

Back in the training room Tris and Christina awkwardly ascend the center sparring platform. They’ve only known each other a few weeks, but they are already best friends. Both know how critical it is that they fight this all out, it could mean getting cut for either of them if they don’t.

Tris nods at Christina reassuringly, and they take their stances.

“You two gonna braid hair or fight?” Eric jeers.

They start to move, slowly at first, circling each other. Christina is the first to punch, her right arm swinging just past Tris’ ear as Tris dodges and hooks her fist into Christina’s gut. Christina coughs and stumbles back, her swollen eyes narrowing on Tris. Chris lunges again, this time catching her leg on Tris’ ankle as Tris sweeps her to the floor. She’s up in a flash, throwing punches as fast as Tris can block them. Eric’s permanent smirk is only half sarcastic as he watches her recreate some of the moves he showed her this week, and some others she must have learned on her own.

It only takes a few minutes for both Tris and Christina to realize that Chris is outmatched. She hadn’t expected her small friend to fight this well after watching her brutally beaten the second day of training, but she’s honest enough with herself to recognize when she’s been beaten.

The problem is she can’t concede. Tris just keeps blocking and punching, and Christina can tell that she’s holding back. She doesn’t attack except when Chris does, and even then she only gives enough force to push Christina back a few feet.

“Tris!” Christina spits out, blood trickling down her cheek. Their faces are inches away, stuck in a mutual lock. Only Tris can hear when Chris sputters, “Do it Tris, I can fucking take it!”

They break apart but Tris doesn’t go on the offensive. Instead, they continue sparring like this, Christina never relenting, always getting back up after each fall, until finally Tris takes the opportunity after a failed punch to sock Christina in the cheek, hard. Chris goes down with a thud and she’s out.

“Good.” Eric says after a moment. “Both of you, infirmary. Now,” he barks.

Will runs over and helps Tris lift Christina off the mat as she comes to. They limp out of the training room and towards the infirmary.

Not two days later, Tris challenges Eric again, this time when he demands Al stand in front of the target board to test if he will flinch when knives are thrown at him. She stands up to Eric, and he goads her on, tells her he is happy to let her stand in front of the target instead.

She takes Al’s place against the target, but instead of throwing the knives himself, Eric hands Four a set, and tells him to aim close. As he throws, Four eggs her on— “if you fail, you’re out” he warns, and then “if you flinch, Al will have to take your place.” She doesn’t realize it at the time, but Four is trying to ignite the residual Abnegation selflessness to get her through the task.

The entire moment is terrifying, Tris’ pulse hammers in her ears, and yet these two men challenging her makes something grow inside her. She feels like she can do this, she can meet this challenge. She doesn’t even blink when Four’s last knife skims her ear.

“If I wanted to hurt you, I would have,” Four says afterward, when Tris confronts him.

What the hell is that supposed to mean? Tris is fuming. What is up with all these trainers making thinly veiled threats at her while they look like they wish she’d take a short walk off the chasm bridge?

Christina pulls Tris aside as soon as she walks out of the training room. “What the hell was that, Tris?” she screeches, “Do you have a death wish?”

“He started this! He keeps antagonizing me!” Tris argues hastily.

“Who? Eric?”

“Yes, Eric! He just makes me so angry—“ Tris’ face contorts.  
“Angry, or…?” Christina’s tone implies something nefarious.

“Or what?” Tris snaps, a little too defensive.

“All I’m saying is that you’re making the same face you make when you look at the last chocolate muffin at breakfast. It’s…” Christina tries to convey all the meaning in her words through a series of expressive eyebrow movements.

These signals make little sense to Tris, but no matter, she already knows what Chris means. She looks at those muffins with two simultaneous and utterly inescapable emotions: longing and guilt. She wants that damn muffin, but the Abnegation in her tells her to let someone else have it, that she shouldn’t even desire such delicacies, that it is sinful to want.

And yet, she wants.

What does Christina mean by telling her she looks at Eric that way? She has a lot of confusing feelings about Eric, and most are white-hot, which she assumed to be fear and rage. But maybe there’s something else there too.

The next morning Eric’s punishment is written in chalk: Tris is fighting Peter. Peter is at least five inches taller than Tris with fifty pounds more muscle. He’d won every fight he’d been in so far. And he hates Tris.

When Four had confronted Eric about the clearly lopsided matchup just before the initiates arrived, Eric had said she needed to learn to put her money where her mouth is. If Tris had asked him, he might have told her that it was because he thought she could take him. He might have told her that, though he knows he shouldn’t.

Christina and Will bolster up their friend, talking her up as she walks towards the mats. Four grabs her by the arm and stops her for a second, gruffly reminding her of the tips he gave her, reminding her to use what she has.

She ascends the mats as Peter sneers taunts at her. “That’s enough,” Eric calls, trying to sound bored, and the fighters take their places.

The first minute or so they are equally matched. Peter is thrown off by Tris’ skill and it takes him a few tries to readjust his method to her particular moves. Soon he is connecting jabs to her sides, kneeing her in the stomach, throwing her across the mat. She limps up weakly, only to find her face meeting a very unfriendly brick wall in the shape of Peter’s fist. She topples over, sprawled on the edge of the mat. Through bleary, swelling eyes, she can see Four walking away, leaving her here. He doesn’t even look.

“Giving up, stiff?” Eric sneers at her, his eyes boring into hers.

She lets out a battle cry that comes out half groan half growl and yanks Peter down by his ankles. In a blink she’s straddling his chest, punching him in the jaw and the eye and the nose over and over and at some point he passes out but she keeps punching and punching and hitting and then she’s off him.

Then she’s in the air, being lifted away from the mat and she can’t see through the blood and sweat and tears dripping in her vision, so she just flails madly in the enormous arm wrapped around her waist. She feels the body beneath her move and she realizes she is being carried, slung over someone’s shoulder. She squirms and pounds her fists into the person’s back, but it’s no use.

Moments later the arm tosses her down into a chair, and she’s so startled that she just sits there and takes a second to catch her breath before she feels a soft cloth wiping the blood out of her eyes.

When she can see again, she sees Eric. She’s in his office. He’s holding a bloodied towel, staring at her with a look she can’t quite decipher.

“Tris, what the hell was that?”

His words are so fierce she doesn’t even notice that he uses her name.

“I was just doing what you told us to,” she spits back, still barely containing her rage.

“I didn’t tell you to kill the kid!”  
“I didn’t—he’s??”  
“No, he’s in the infirmary, but fuck Tris…” his voice trails off. Tris has never seen Eric so…she’s not even sure what this is.

Then, in an entirely unexpected voice for the hulking male, he adds, “I don’t want to see you become like them. Like me.”

“Like you?” She tries to decipher this. Yet again this man uses his words to confuse and frustrate her. “You mean cruel?” Eric’s eyes drop to his lap. “Is that what all this is?” She gestures unspecifically to his person. “You want us to think you are ruthless? To be scared of you?”

“Is that what you think?”

She considers this for a moment. Her anger has simmered down enough that she can focus more, and she mills over his question, chewing on her bottom lip.

“No.”

“Well you should.”

Eric dismisses her from his office, and just as Tris slips out the door, she turns back and returns his volley. “I'm not afraid of you, Eric.” She says it plain and simple and then disappears around the corner and down the hall.


	3. WAR GAMES

Later that night, Tris and the other initiates awake to a horrible clanging, are pulled from their beds and herded out to the train tracks in the dark.

“Listen up,” Eric booms.

“This is a war game. It’s pretty simple, basically capture the flag,” Four explains.

“With guns,” Eric adds. Some murmurs move through the train car.

“Dart guns,” Four clarifies. “They shoot neuro-stim darts that replicate the sensation of a bullet wound. They last about two minutes.”

“Now who wants to demonstrate?” Eric smirks.

“You mean who wants to get shot?” Will asks, incredulous.

“Well you’re all going to get shot, but one of you is going to be brave enough to demonstrate first.” Eric glares at Will.

“I will,” Tris is no longer surprised when her mouth volunteers her for things, but she still tries to look less terrified of the dumb decision she just made.

“All right, stiff,” Eric says nonchalantly, trying not to look impressed. The initiates around her part to get out of the way of Eric’s shot. He lifts his dart rifle, points it directly between her eyes, gives her a small smile, and pulls the trigger.

Somehow, the dart miraculously lands in her shoulder, as if he moved his aim at the last second. Tris winces and lets out a tiny, strained moan. She pulls the dart out of her arm and drops it on the train car floor with a loud metallic clunk.

“Well it can’t be that bad, if the stiff didn’t even cry,” Peter jokes from the other end of the car. Eric immediately shoots him in the gut and Peter cries out, falling to his knees in pain.

“Or maybe the stiff has bigger balls than you,” Eric mutters, and then louder, “satisfied? Or do we need another demonstration?” The initiates all shake their heads and look down, none stepping up to challenge Eric again.

Eric and Four continue explaining the game, eventually sorting the initiates into two teams. Tris is picked first for Four’s team, followed by Christina, Will, Uriah, Marlene, and a couple Dauntless-borns she doesn’t know by name.

Having collected their gear and split into their groups, the sleepy initiates wait for the train behind their respective captains.

“Time estimate?” Eric asks Four, sounding impatient.

Four checks his watch. “Any minute now. How long is it going to take you to memorize the train schedule?” Four snarks back.

“Why should I when I have you?” Eric shoves Four a little too roughly in the shoulder. Four remains placid.

Moments later the train pulls around the hill and the group starts trotting alongside to jump in.

Four grabs the latch of his train car and hauls his body up. Tris, only seconds on his heel, catches up to him, and he scoops his arm around her to pull her up in the car. Tris is momentarily angry—she does not need his help—but when he releases her, the feeling of his hand ghosting her side remains and she can’t think about anything else the whole ride.

After they jump from the train, Four gathers his team to make a plan. Argument breaks out, and soon each initiate has their own idea, which they try to make known by saying it louder than the others.

Tris tires of this strategy quickly, and wanders off to the Ferris Wheel to get a better view. She’s at the base plotting her climbing path when Four joins her. Without a word, when she starts to ascend, he follows, matching her every move.

About halfway to the top of Ferris Wheel, a bar breaks beneath Tris’ foot and she swings off her hold, nearly dropping. Four catches her and pulls her back to position, his fingers gripping tightly around her hip well after she is steady.

She stays in this position a moment longer, letting him hold her there, but then regains composure and starts to climb higher. His hand tries to pull her back, and Tris assumes he is concerned for her so she tries to reassure him.

“I'm ok,” she looks at him, and understanding dawns on her face. She is not shaken by her near fall, but he clearly is. He looks down at the ground several stories below them and back at her with something like veiled panic in his eyes.

“You’re afraid of heights.” She isn’t asking, it’s obvious.

“Everyone’s afraid of something.”

“I didn’t think you were afraid of anything,” she laughs, and turns back to continue her climb. Despite the tightness in his chest, he follows her.

They finally reach the top and the wind whips at their clothes as they cling to the cross bars above a platform. They are inches away again now, but by necessity. The closeness pulls at Tris and as usual she can’t stop herself from speaking.

“Why did you leave my fight?” Tris blurts, frustration clear in her voice.

Four doesn’t answer for a second, clenching his jaw and averting his gaze—something difficult to do in such a small space. Then he looks up at her and with a soft vulnerability admits, “It wasn’t something I wanted to see.”

Tris’ eyes dart between Four’s eyes and his lips, with a sudden clarity and desperation, perhaps exacerbated by the adrenaline coursing through her body. Then she sees it. In the distance, clear and bright as a star, the other team’s flag.

Tris and Four quickly descend the Ferris Wheel to regroup with the team. By the time they are back on the ground, the team still hasn’t moved from their drop off point, clearly in the middle of a heated debate about who has more authority here.

“Listen up, Tris has a plan,” Four bellows when they reach the team. Everyone shuts up and stares.

She does have a plan, and it’s good enough that no one has any arguments.

Just as Tris is in the home stretch, mere yards from the lighthouse where Eric’s team had stashed their flag, she sees it. There is a tell-tale shadow lurking behind a trash bin outside the entrance to the lighthouse stairs. Her squad had riddled most of Eric’s team with stim darts, so she knows this has to be one of their last players.

Sure enough, a shot rings out as the shadow tries to fend her off from entering the lighthouse. Not having any of that, Tris ducks and rolls, swerves around the next two shots and crouches behind a barrel to wait for the shadow to make itself visible enough for her to get a shot off.

The shadow blasts a few more darts in her general direction, before she hears the click-click which means the shooter ran out of ammo. She knows the shooter would either have to make it back to their team’s camp to reload or die trying.

She raises her weapon, and with a growl the shadow leaps out to reveal himself—Eric. He looks like he actually intends to fight her for her weapon for a second, but she aims her rifle directly at his heart and he raises his hands in surrender. He cocks a crooked smile at her, and she pulls the trigger.

“You shot me in the leg, asshole!” he yelps, befuddled.

“Whoops! Must have missed!” She winks at him as she runs past him to the lighthouse to claim her victory.

After her flawless war games victory, Tris is invited to join some Dauntless-born initiates on a secret initiation ritual. She’s not sure how to feel, seeing Eric is a part of the group and that Four has chosen to go back to the compound. She honestly doesn’t know how to be around either of them right now, but some part of her wishes Four would come too.

As the group of Dauntless-born initiates and their Dauntless member friends ascend the 100 flights of the Hancock building, Eric manages to sidle up next to her until they are matching strides.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said to you.” Eric’s breathing is labored from climbing the stairs.

Tris chuckles. “Asshole? I've been called worse,” she shrugs.

“No, what I said about you and Four.”

“Oh that—“ Tris stops talking abruptly because she wasn’t even quite sure what Eric had meant in that whole incident, especially since she doesn’t even know what’s happening with her and Four.

“Look, if you two have a thing,” her eyes snap to him “or not,” he continues, “it’s none of my business…I wouldn’t dare try to capture a flame.” His voice sounds serious and very un-Eric, and it startles Tris enough that she stumbles and misses a step. Eric stops to steady her, and their group keeps climbing ahead of them, leaving them alone in the stairwell.

Eric’s hand secures Tris’ waist and he rights her on her feet. She takes the moment to catch her breath and process his words. She has literally no idea what he means, even more so than normal, but he sounds serious.

Before she even responds he asks, “You good?” She nods hesitantly. “Then get your ass up those stairs, initiate!” he barks, but the smile remains in his eyes.

Minutes later she is soaring through Chicago on a zipline at breakneck speed, hooting and laughing at the incredible feeling of air whooshing around her, all thoughts of strange men quieted by the howling wind. When her ride comes to an end, she releases the harness and crashes down into a tangle of waiting arms—Dauntless arms.

Her elation cracks for a microsecond, when a tiny feeling in her chest wishes it had been specific Dauntless arms that caught her. An even smaller whisper of a feeling doesn’t know which arms she’d choose.

In the earliest hours of the morning, exhausted and coming down from a big adrenaline high from ziplining with the Dauntless-born initiates after capture the flag, Tris practically floats into the Dauntless compound alongside Christina and Will. Given the hour, the Pit is nearly abandoned, but Tris spots Four drinking with a few friends across the way. He waves her over, and she says goodnight to Christina and Will, walking over to Four and his friends.

Four is clearly a little tipsy, and he stands just a bit too close to her as he speaks. He’s close enough that the heat of his body reminds Tris of their encounter by the lockers.

“Trisss,” her name stretches from his lips.

“Hey,” she barely chokes out.

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” she smiles.

“I wanted to say that you were really good tonight. You were brave.” Four’s arm reaches out and his fingers thread through a stray strand of her hair, before he drops the arm heavily back to his side. “Anyway you should get back to your friends.” He nods over to her friends, who are watching the interaction with great interest.

Christina and Will pretend not to notice her, so she just laughs and argues, “I think they’ll be fine without me.”

“Yea? Then have a drink with me.”

“Am I allowed to drink with my instructor?” she asks a little hesitantly.

“I make the rules don’t I? And I say Tris is going to do a shot!” She’s exhausted, but one drink can’t hurt.

Tris giggles and takes the bottle from him, swallowing the liquid hastily. She chokes and sputters as it burns her throat. He claps her on the back and says, “Welcome to Dauntless!” Tris has never seen this side of Four before. He looks…happy? It’s a good look on him.

She stays a few minutes longer, but soon finds the alcohol does not mix well with her overwhelming exhaustion. He’s just chatting on, more talkative than she’s ever seen him, including her in some silly reckless teenage boy story he and Zeke are telling as if she’s a member of their little social group, a member of Dauntless.

She resists the temptation to stick around just to watch him, and instead thanks him for the shots and says goodnight.

He leans in to give her a half-side hug as she leaves, whispering “I’m glad you got to see me like this..”

“Drunk?” Tris giggles softly.

“No.. real.” He lets her go and she wanders out of the pit in a haze.


	4. WHAT YOU ARE

The day after Capture the Flag is Visiting Day. This is the day Tris has been most nervous about since she cut her palm over the sizzling coals. Will her parents forgive her selfishness enough to come?

She is elated to find out her mom came, the grey dress standing out against the see of black. But no other grey. _He’s being selfish_ , her mom assures her. She’s never heard her mom say anything like that about her father before.

Tris tries to soak up every moment she can with her mom, but their conversation is interrupted several times by various friends and fellow initiates. They introduce each other to their families, pretending for one afternoon that these people are more than just strangers to them now.

At the end of her visit, Natalie smiles at her daughter, holds her by the shoulders and looks her directly in the eyes. “You have a good life here. So many lovely friends. And at least one or two men have their eyes on you,” she winks. Tris eyebrows dart up. “Don’t be afraid to start your own new family here,” she adds, knowingly.

They hug tightly, and just as Tris is about to pull away, Natalie whispers in her ear, “And be careful. Don’t let them find out what you are.”

Just as quickly as she says it, she’s bounding up the stairs and out of the Pit, calling out behind her, “And have a piece of Dauntless cake for me!” before disappearing from view. How does she know this compound so well?

The next day Four is all business when he calls her into a tiny room with a chair in the center. She recognizes the equipment from her aptitude test and immediately recoils, but Four closes the door behind her and ushers her to sit.

Fear Simulations. Each day they will take a fear serum developed by Erudite, designed to put them in a scenario where they will face one of their biggest fears.

He touches her hair for the briefest second, and before Tris can lean into the gesture, he is injecting the serum into her neck, and she is out.

In the sim she’s trapped in a glass tank as it filled with water. As the tank fills, something in her clicks. She knows this isn’t real, and all she has to do is imagine the glass breaking beneath her fingers and it shatters.

She pours out of the tank and wakes up with a start in the testing room.

Four looks at his feet and clenches his jaw tightly.

“Four, what is it?” Tris asks, starting to feel anxious.

“I had a guess, for a while, but when I saw you break the glass…”

“Dauntless don’t break the glass…” she realizes, more to herself than him. She was always skirting the line of trying to be good enough without exposing her divergent nature, but no one had shown her how to hide it in a sim.

“No, they don’t.” He looks in her eyes with fear and longing.

She is terrified for a moment, but the sincerity in his eyes is heartbreaking and she knows she can’t be scared of him. He won’t hurt her. “You said you knew, before?”

“I had a guess.”

“How?”

“Because I am too.”

Four has to move on to other initiates, so he explains what little he can and sends her out. She had her sim in the morning, so she has the rest of the day to stew. She wanders aimlessly for a while until she decides to find Tori in the tattoo shop for some advice. Tori warns her—it’s not safe to tell anyone what she is, the leadership are hunting divergents. _The leaders? Including Eric?_ Tris feels her stomach turn. Tori gives her some tips on things to avoid: don’t be aware in the sims, don’t try to change the circumstances, just focus on fighting or calming down.

She meanders slowly through the corridor towards the dorms that night, her mind pouring over the day and especially the electric feeling she had when Four touched her earlier. His soft smile and dark eyes had distracted her from the fact that she had exposed the one secret she isn’t supposed to share with anyone.

And instead of being murdered for it, she found someone else like her.

She is so lost in these thoughts that she doesn’t hear the three hooded figures surrounding her.

She struggles against her assailants, but they easily get the upper hand, dragging her back through the corridor and out onto the ledge over the chasm. Her eyes are covered by some sort of fabric but she can hear the rushing water beneath her and she starts to scream.

Her mind goes completely blank as she kicks and squirms and yells and even bites the three figures, until she hears a familiar voice in her ear. “Tris, Tris it’s me, you’re ok.”

She feels Four’s arms around her, lifting her up bridal style and carrying her through the dark complex.

She closes her eyes and clings tightly to him, and when she opens her eyes, he is setting her down on a bed.

Four sees the panic start to grow in Tris’ eyes.

“You’re ok. You’re in my apartment. Can you tell me what happened?”

A sob pours from her body, and she gasps for air. He squats in front of her knees and holds her hands firmly, wiping the blood from her knuckles with a wet cloth.

It’s such a gentle act, and it reminds her a lot of home. Well, her old home. It reminds her of the tenderness of Abnegation, a tenderness she hadn’t expected to find her in Dauntless.

When she gets her breathing under control, she finally speaks. She tells him what she remembers, that she heard Peter’s voice, that she smelled Al’s soap. She tells him that someone groped her, at which Four tenses his grip on her hands.

When she’s finished explaining, he tells her that Drew, her third assailant, is in the infirmary and they decide to wait to report this until tomorrow so she doesn’t have to go back out tonight, and so he won’t have to leave her there alone.

When he finishes bandaging her wounds, she thanks him.

“You never have to thank me,” he says softly, planting a chaste kiss on her knuckles before setting her hands back in her lap.

She doesn’t even have to ask him to stay with her, he just sits quietly beside her. Four’s quiet again, somber even, clearly sobered from the whole event.

They enjoy each other’s silence for several minutes, before a growl sounds out in Tris’ stomach.

“Let’s get you something to eat,” Four says, hopping up. He looks back at her, assessing her again, “And something to wear.”

He moves swiftly through his apartment, barely making any noise, despite his speed and size. He grabs her an oversized shirt to sleep in and tosses out her bloodied and ripped clothes. He fusses around in the kitchen for a few minutes and emerges with a bowl of soup. He sits reading reports at the kitchen table while she eats. When she finishes, she brings her bowl to the sink. Standing behind him at the counter, she notices again those little tattoos peaking up past the collar of his shirt.

“Can I ask you something?” her voice startles her a little, it’s the first words she’s tried to croak out since she cried.

“Sure, shoot,” Four replies, not turning from the sink where he now is washing her dishes.

She asks if she can see his tattoos, and he hesitates. She has been raw and vulnerable in front of him tonight, he thinks, and he wants to offer that same bravery in kind.

He takes off his shirt, and slowly she moves around him, tracing her fingers across the lines of the tattoo. He sucks in a breath, and her fingers feel like they are tingling where she touches him.

Her fingers are like matches striking across his skin and his body ripples and sways with her touch. He sighs quietly and lets her examine him, his eyes drooping closed.

When she finishes tracing each edge of four’s tattoo, her fingers graze across a scar and he flinches.

“What’s this from?” she inquires softly, half expecting to hear about some reckless Dauntless stunt.

“It’s nothing,” he snaps, and shrugs away from her, putting his shirt back on.

“I'm getting whiplash from all these mixed signals, Four.”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” he says abruptly, “You need to sleep. I'll take the floor.”

The next morning Tris wakes up to the smell of fresh coffee. Her body naturally woke her up early, Abnegation schedule, and she knew Dauntless wouldn’t get moving for another couple hours. So she’s surprised to see when she opens her eyes that Four is already awake and dressed.

“Coffee?” he offers.

“Please.”

He pours her a cup and brings it to her as she sits herself up in his bed. He had slept on the floor, out of respect he’d said. She isn’t sure if it was out of respect for her, or for her coming from Abnegation, where sharing a bed with someone is a rare and special act.

“I made it black, because, well…if you want something in it—“

“It’s perfect.” She takes the cup from him, and his hand brushes her skin.

He leans against the wall by the bed and drinks his coffee in silence. She’s a little confused by him but she relishes these simple, quiet moments.

When she’s finished with her cup, he collects it from her and says, “Come on, I want to show you something.”

She looks down at herself.

“You can wear something of mine.” He takes no argument from her, and leaves for the dresser. He rummages through a couple drawers and returns with some thin sweatpants and a tank top. He also grabs his jacket from a coat hook and hands that to her. She thanks him and gets dressed in the bathroom.

While she’s putting on his jacket she can’t help but bring the fabric up to her nose, inhaling the scent of his sweat, the musk of Dauntless soap, and something distinctly him. The fact that the scent is enough to ignite that little fire in her belly makes her blush furiously. By the time she gets out of the bathroom her blush matches the red accents on his jacket.

Four is collecting his gear when she walks out, but when he sees her he stops dead in his tracks. He looks at her with an intensity and longing that is briefly unguarded. His tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip, and he sighs. “Ready?”

“For what? What are you showing me?”

“My fear landscape.”

Four explained to the initiates what fear landscapes were earlier that week. He and Lauren, another trainer, told them that they would each practice in a few of their fears throughout the second stage of initiation, before facing all of their biggest fears in the final test. “Most people have between 12-15 big fears,” Four had told them. Tris had spent that whole afternoon wondering what hers would be.

In the fear landscape room, Tris stares at the serum syringe with trepidation. They had been quiet the whole walk here, both clearly lost in their own thoughts. But now she is facing the barrel of a syringe and she has some questions.

“You sure you want to do this?” she says quietly.

A tiny smile crosses his lips. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You haven’t told me anything about yourself and now you just want to let me inside your head?”

He studies her for a second. “Are you afraid of that?”

“You’re not?” she pushes back.

Four considers this for a second, then with a half smile, “No.”

He reaches out to brush her hair behind her ear, and his fingers linger on her neck. “Ready?” he asks. She nods, and she feels the pinch of a needle in her neck.

She blinks and she’s on top of the Hancock building. She breathes in deeply and lets the air rush through her hair for a few seconds before she looks around and notices Four is frozen, looking over the edge. “Fear of heights,” she offers.

He doesn’t answer for a second, and then, “We need to jump. We need to face the fear head on.”

Tris nods, taking his hand. “Together?” he smiles at her, a soft, fragile smile, and then they throw themselves off the building.

She blinks again and they’re in a small closet. Except the walls start to collapse in around them. Four struggles against the walls for a second before sitting on the floor holding his knees. “Fuck fuck fuck,” he murmurs, rocking on his heels.

Tris squeezes down in front of him in the ever-shrinking space, and grabs his shoulders.

“Four? We can’t get out of this one can we? So we need to get your heart rate down right?”

“Right,” he groans.

“Ok,” she says, before curling her body into and around Four, wrapping them together in a tangle of limbs. “I've got you, you’re ok,” she repeats in his ear.

His heart races more and the walls start to press onto their sides.

“I think you’re not helping.”

“Me?”

“Beautiful girl, tiny space,” he chuckles.

“Oh,” she laughs, grateful he can’t see her blushing. He laughs in return.

As they laugh together, the walls fade away around them.

The next fear forces Four to shoot an innocent. He faces it swiftly, and as soon as he pulls the trigger they are in a different room.

This room is familiar.

 _It’s an Abnegation living room,_ Tris realizes, with a growing knot of fear in her gut.

Marcus Eaton, the leader of Abnegation walks into the living room. “Marcus?” Tris calls out, but Marcus has his eyes set on Four.

“Tobias,” Marcus seethes.

“Tobias?”

“Tobias!” he yells.

Four is frozen solid next to her.

Marcus starts to pull off his belt and wraps one end around his hand.

“Four?” Tris tries to get his attention. “Four!” she says louder, this time grabbing his hand. His palm is sweaty, and as soon as she grabs it he grips her so tightly it hurts.

Marcus is still coming closer, now raising the belt as if to strike Four. Tris looks between the men and realizes Four is not going to move so she steps between them just as Marcus brings down the belt, thwacking her hard on the forearm. No sooner does Tris feel the smack, she also feels Four pushing her behind him and watches as he punches Marcus square in the jaw.

The room disappears and they are back in the fear landscape room.

Four grabs Tris desperately and searches her arm frantically.

“Four, it wasn’t real, Four, look at me!”

Four looks up at Tris and she can see the pain and worry and shame in his face, his blue eyes rimmed with red.

“You’re ok..” It’s almost a question.

“Yes, Four, I am ok. Are you?” She reaches out and barely strokes his cheek. He leans into her touch, her pulling him in to a full hug. His face presses against her forehead.

They breathe each other in for several minutes, and she can feel his heartbeat slow.

She ventures to break the silence first. “Marcus Eaton had a son.” His arms clench around her. “Tobias.”

His body slumps as he drops his weight into her arms.

“The scars on your back…” she lets her voice trail off because she knows the answer.

“I get why you wouldn’t want anyone to know. No one would look at you any differently. But if it makes you feel any better, I won’t call you that.”

“No, please, you can, you can call me Tobias. Just…not in front of anyone else.”

Tris nods her head against his chest. “Thank you,” she whispers.

“For what?”

“For sharing this with me.”

“Like I said, that’s not one of my fears,” he chuckles, his mood improving.

“So four fears, huh?”

“Four then, four now.”

“So does Eric have two fears?” Tris hesitates to ask about Eric, but she figures this might distract Four from the previous scenes, and she’s too curious not to.

“What?” Four is a bit alarmed to hear that name.

“You call him Two sometimes.” Tris explains.

“Oh, no.. I don’t actually know how many fears Eric has.”  
“What does it mean then?”  
“Umm, it’s stupid. I only do that when he’s being a dick.” He pauses. “It means he got second in initiation.”

“Ok..so why would he be insulted by that?”

“Because I got first.”


	5. LEANING INTO FEAR

Tris shows up at Four’s apartment again that night. It had been a long day of training and she couldn’t bear the thought of going back to the transfer dorms. He opens the door and lets her in without a question.

“Thanks,” she says, standing awkwardly in the middle of his entryway. Even though she slept here last night, she still feels strange even being in his apartment, but she can’t sleep in the same room as Peter and Al and Drew, and she feels safe here.

“You are welcome here anytime,” Four says sincerely.

“You have to say that, because you’re my trainer.”

“No, I shouldn’t say that, because I'm your trainer.” He pauses. “Seriously Tris, I'm glad that you came here.”

“Why? Why shouldn’t you say that? Why are you glad I'm here?” She doesn’t mean to sound like frustrated child, but all these vague conversations have left her head spinning.

Four looks a little ashamed, but Tris is right up in his face now. He reaches his hand out, slowly, giving her time to pull away, and curls his fingers around her hip. When she doesn’t pull away, he whispers, “I would keep you here all the time, if I could.” He puts his other hand on the small of her back and presses her to him, lightly.

Tris tenses. She doesn’t want to move and risk losing his touch, but she doesn’t like being held still.

He squeezes her just enough to remind her that she can move, and she melts into him. When he feels her relax into his arms, he winds them further around her, his left hand coming up to thread through her hair.

He uses his grip in her hair to tilt her face up to his. His eyes dart between her eyes and her lips, and they share a single breath before he presses his lips into hers. It’s soft, but insistent, and Tris feels like she’s been struck by lighting.

Four kissed her. He actually kissed her. And now that she’s felt it, she wants it to never end. But she also wants more, oh so much more.

Tris kisses him back, a little more forcefully, her hands sliding up over his shoulders to wrap around him and pull him closer.

Four’s tongue gently plays at the edge of her lips and she opens them, lets him in. His tongue explores her, swiping across her own tongue, teasing the edges of her mouth, rippling with a soft moan.

She realizes the moan was hers, but that just makes her squirm a little more with the heat rising in her belly.

He feels her canting her hips against him and he groans.

He breaks the kiss and she whimpers slightly at the loss, her eyes still glued shut.

“Tell me what to do,” he rasps. She just breathes heavily, too completely taken by this moment to make sense of his request. He tries again. “I know what it’s like, coming from Abnegation. I don’t want to push you, I don’t want to move too fast.” He trembles as she still presses against him.

“You won’t hurt me,” it’s all she can think to say.

“Then tell me what you want.”

She’s not sure what she wants. On the one hand, her thrumming pulse is telling her she is terrified. Bone deep. But Four is right, she thinks, remembering a strange whispered wisdom he’d shared with her last night. Fear doesn’t shut her down, it wakes her up, that’s what he told her. She lets the fear pulse through his fingertips and into her skin and she leans into it, into him.

“Kiss me,” she commands him and he licks his lips and leans back down to meet her lips.

He leads them backwards slowly, until his knees hit the edge of the bed, and he sits. She follows his lead easily, plopping down to straddle his thighs, never breaking their kiss.

Their tongues dance, hers striking dominant swipes while his caresses. He pulls her lip between his teeth and rolls it, tugging slightly and she makes a wholly indecent sound as liquid pools between her thighs.

The sweat builds between them as their clothed bodies rub and press tightly. They explore each other’s mouths until they can’t breath, but when Tris pulls back to catch her breath, Four just leans in to press kisses along her neck.

He nibbles and sucks his way softly down her jaw, past her pulse point and to the hollow of her throat, where his tongue flicks. He trails hot kisses across her collar bone and licks the soft spot behind her ear.

They kiss until their mouths hurt. They kiss until the arousal might break her. They kiss until the exhaustion starts to take over and Tris yawns sleepily into Four’s mouth.

He chuckles and pulls away, leaving them both breathing heavily, pulses racing. He shifts to face her directly, his gaze intense but full of shy hope.

“Tris, I want this, but I don’t want to just hookup with you, I want to be with you.” His eyes pour all his feelings into hers but she’s a little lost in the haze of lust so she stutters back, breathily.

“You want to have sex?” She looks a little worried and a little excited but Four just chuckles and licks his lips, swollen from kissing.

“No. I mean, eventually, if that’s what you want.” He presses his forehead to hers. “But what I'm trying to say is that I like you. A lot. And I want to see where this goes.”

Tris wants that too, but as soon as she thinks she will open her mouth to say so, Eric’s face pops into her head. She tries to come up with an answer that honestly reflects the complexity of her feelings right now, and settles on this:

“I like you too. I don’t know what this is, and I don’t want to lose it, but I don’t want to stop exploring either.” Four’s brows furrow a bit but he lets her continue. “I want to keep plunging into the unknown. I want to keep finding new things that I can do, that I like, that I don’t like.”

“I get it. When you’ve never had a choice before, it’s hard to choose just one thing.” He would’ve never expected to be everything Tris needs, but he can’t help be afraid that his feelings are already deeper than hers. He tries to let her see this in his eyes, because he’s not certain he can say such intense words to her just yet.

“And…you’re ok with that?”  
“Tris, I don’t own you. And I don’t want to. But I do want to get to know you better,” he tries. A not too small part of him already feels like he’s letting her get away when all he wants is her, but the feel of her in his arms easily overpowers his logic.

“I can live with that.” She snuggles deeper into his chest and lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. He nuzzles his nose into her hair and breathes in her scent. In that quiet moment, their eyes shudder, and slowly, they drift off to sleep.

The next morning as she pulls on her borrowed clothes, Tris notices that Four has left a small purple hickey just above her clavicle. She rubs at it tenderly. “Trying to mark me?” she jokes, as if the bruise would even be noticeable when her body is littered with bumps and bruises from initiation and her incident at the chasm.

“No.” Four sounds serious, not playful like Tris had intended with the remark. “I just wanted to leave you as changed by this as I am.” He sighs heavily. In the cold light of morning, his rational mind has reminded him of the very real danger of getting crushed by this woman who still wants to explore her options.

“This is a big deal for me Four. Don’t think it’s not,” Tris defends.

“Just not as big of a deal as a relationship?”

“This is a relationship,” she states firmly. “I don’t know what relationships in Dauntless look like, but to me, this means something. We mean something.” Tris is almost flustered defending her feelings for him. Feelings she couldn’t even admit to herself mere hours ago.

A shy smile creeps up on Four’s face. He’s not entirely convinced, but he thinks she’s so sexy when she is angry.

“Ok, ok, you win.”

“Of course I do.”

“This is a relationship.” She nods at him, he’s finally getting it. “I'm not a jealous man, Tris. I just want to be with you. Whatever that looks like.”

She feels a little like he’s conceding, but he looks sincere.

“Me too.”

He pulls her back to the bed and she flops down beside him.

“I can’t just stay here forever,” Tris sighs.

“I know that,” Four doesn’t sound very convincing. He snuggles in closer to her, wrapping her up in his arms.

“You can’t keep me safe from everything.”

“You can’t fault me for trying.”


	6. INSPECTING ERIC COULTER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lemons ahead!

After cuddling with Four until she thought she might fall back asleep, Tris decides to head back to the dorms to shower. Now that she knows Four has reported the incident and the perpetrators have been removed, the space feels much safer.

Despite the lack of privacy in the dorm showers, she still feels more comfortable showering in the dorm than showering in front of Four after she just kissed him for the first time.

Actually, now that she thinks of it, she kinda wishes she had stayed there. But she’s already back, so she’ll save that thought for another time.

The dorm showers are an open space, coed, and fit about 4-5 initiates at a time. Right now, Tris is joined by Christina and Molly. Christina and Tris shower together most days, and since the chasm incident neither likes to be alone in vulnerable positions. Christina isn’t particularly modest anyway, and never even brings her change of clothes with her, instead electing to walk back to the sleeping area in her towel, if anything. Something about Candor transfers, Tris thinks.

Tris lathers her skin with soap, tracing her fingers across bruises and scrapes, her fingers lingering fondly over the mark Four left last night.

She’s just starting to rinse off when a voice booms from the sleeping area.

“Prior!” the voice bellows.

Tris has time to panic for about half a second before Eric’s lumbering into the showers. “Where is Prio—“ Eric halts abruptly, taking in her naked form. He’s seen plenty of people nude, and has really no particular feelings about the naked body most of the time. But she is just standing there, facing away from him, gently rinsing little bubbles from her smooth skin and he just completely loses his train of thought.

“What do you need, Eric?” Christina chastises, not bothering to cover herself. “Can’t you see we’re in the middle of a shower?” She is feisty for someone who nearly got hung over the chasm by the leader in front of her, but he doesn’t even notice. In his periphery he vaguely sees Molly awkwardly try to cover herself and sneak sideways out of the showers without bothering to rinse the shampoo from her hair.

“I need to speak to you Prior,” Eric demands, ignoring Christina entirely, his eyes never wavering from the back of Tris’ head. He can’t look directly at the rest of her or he might pass out.

Tris surprises herself, and everyone else in the room, by casually turning to face Eric head on, her arms above her body, teasing shampoo out of her blonde locks as sudsy water drips down her completely exposed form. “So talk, Eric,” she muses.

Eric stammers and swallows visibly. His eyes hold steady on hers, and his jaw tenses. He does an about face and marches quickly out of the showers, shouting behind him, “Report to my office in 2 minutes, stiff, IN UNIFORM.”

As soon as he is gone Tris releases a huge sigh and suddenly a laugh courses through her body until both Christina and Tris are doubled over under the showers cracking up.

Tris is not sure what compelled her to do that but it made her feel powerful, sexy, and desired. Even if he refused to look.

A few minutes later Tris prances excitedly into Eric’s office. She’s not sure what to expect, but her pulse is already racing and her shower did nothing to cool off the spike of arousal she felt when Eric’s eyes were on her body.

Eric had fully intended on asking Tris about what happened at the chasm—Four had just submitted his report—but somehow the whole thing disappeared from his brain the minute he saw Tris in the shower.

“What the HELL was that, stiff?” Eric screams when Tris steps into his office.

She stumbles a little on her own feet and drops her eyes to the floor.

“I hear this report from Four, and I think I'm going to find an initiate that’s hurt and instead I find you..”

“You were worried about me?”

“I thought they could have killed you and instead you’re just having a laugh, completely exposed—“

“Umm, I was just taking a shower, _sir_.” She adds the title, a little out of fear, and a little to remind him of his position right now.

Eric looms over her. “So you just go around showering in front of everyone?” he grunts.

“You walked into my shower,” she pushes back, her voice raising a little at the indignity of his accusation. “And yea, actually, I shower in front of whoever the fuck I want to these days. Or is that not how it works in Dauntless?” She is treading dangerous waters, and she knows it, but the heat under her skin keeps careening her ever faster towards the edge of this cliff.

“Oh I see, so you wanted me to walk in on your shower? You wanted me to see—you like that,” he crowds her into the door.

“Naked?”

“Yes, naked, gods Tris,” he chokes out.

She bites her lip, he’s given away the trick. He called her by her name. He’s slipped up. She’s caught him.

“I'm sorry, _Eric_ , are you saying you don’t want to see me naked?” she takes a risk, flirting shamelessly.

For a second he looks like he might explode, but then he licks his lips, his breathing shallow and thick, and looks her up and down. His eyes scan her slowly, exactly how she wished they would have when she was in the shower, now that she thinks about it. The steel grey orbs flicker mischievously, and a darkness pools behind them as his pupils dilate. In a smooth, deep droll, he breathes, “You really have no idea, do you?”

She doesn’t.

He takes two full steps back until he is leaning on his desk. She’s still pressed to the door, breathing hard. His predatory eyes continue to graze over her form, until they land back up at her eyes. “Go on then.”

She looks at him with questions in her eyes.

“You want me to see you naked, go on.” He gestures to her clothes. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Suddenly all that Dauntless bravado is out the window, and Tris seems to shrink under the weight of his words. She looks around nervously, rubbing her palms on her thighs. Eric takes pity on her and interrupts her obvious thought spiral. He stands back up off the desk and takes a cautious step towards her. “Tris, hey, I'm sorry, I wasn’t trying to push you, I just thought, and you seemed…fuck.” Eric scolds himself silently for a second before looking back up to catch Tris’ eyes.

“Ok,” she smiles at him.

“Ok?”

She feels that same fear she felt when Four kissed her, and it gives her the final push of adrenaline she needs. “But you first."

It takes him all of three seconds to process this turn of events, and in a flash he’s saying, “Yes, oh gods yes,” as he rips his boots off and starts on his pants. In no time at all he is standing two feet in front of Tris, butt naked, in something like parade rest. He’s already pretty hard, and Tris cackles a little, thinking of jokes about him “standing at attention.” Hey, it’s her first time seeing a hard penis. She’s allowed to have a few stray thoughts.

Seeing him standing there, erect, eyes a dark steel glazed over with an intense desire, she knows it’s because of her. For her. It makes her hotter than she’s ever felt.

Since he’s standing so properly for her, Tris thinks it’s only right that she inspect him like a true soldier. She steps up to him, her eyes flicking from the soft patch of blonde hair on his chest to the sharp angles of muscle rippling beneath his skin. She traces her eyes over every curve of his arms, down thighs like tree trunks, rigid and thick. She walks a tight circle around his body, her fingers lightly grazing his stomach as she curves around to see the rest of him.

She is a little alarmed when he squeaks softly. Only after hearing the noise does she realize she has unwittingly traced her fingers down to the crack of his ass. And boy is it an ass. Tris is not sure what a good ass is supposed to look like, but this one does things to her that she can’t quite name. She’s a little surprised she only touched it and didn’t just reach out and bite it.

On second thought, she remembers how leaning into the kiss with Four felt like zip lining off the Hancock building. But this time, she doesn’t want to just lean, she wants to jump.

She slinks down slowly behind an unflinching Eric, and plants her teeth right on the apex of his right butt cheek. The groan he emits is stifled and Eric sways a little on his feet but rights himself quickly. Interesting.

She slides back up behind him, inching closer until the front of her body is flush with his back. She curls her fingers around his hip bones and hears when his breathing catches. She takes it as a good sign, and wraps her hands along the curved edge of his adonis belt muscle, slicing a slow v towards his groin.

When Tris’ tiny hand takes a hold of his cock, Eric lets out a deep sigh and relaxes ever so slightly into her touch. He’s bigger than she expected, though she doesn’t have anything to compare him to, but her slender fingers don’t make it all the way around the shaft of his cock and the idea of something so big makes her wonder briefly what it would feel like inside her.

Tris starts to stroke him, slowly, with a teasingly light grip, as she gets a sense for this new muscle. The skin of his cock feels like soft velvet under her nimble fingers, and yet beneath that skin is hard as stone. She takes in all the details of his form, and each subtle sound he makes as she moves.

As she strokes, Tris can feel Eric’s ass muscles tense and flex against her stomach, and she bites her lip, feeling the wetness growing between her legs.

She strokes him with a bit more pressure now, letting her thumb swirl the precum on his head as she reaches the top before tugging all the way back down to his base.

She’s moving mostly on instinct right now, with a few whispered stories and sexy bits of gossip from Christina thrown in. Whatever she’s doing, it seems to be working.

Eric pants heavily, desperately maintaining his posture. She feels him holding himself back from bucking into her hands.

“Ask me,” he croaks out “a-ask me what I thought—” a moan leaps out of him, “when I saw you in the shower,” he begs.

She keeps her pace on his cock and whispers back, “You didn’t even look.”

“I looked,” he grits, and in a desperate cry, “ask me.”

Her stroking speeds up and she grips his cock tighter.

“What did you think when you saw me in the shower?”

He gasps.

“Tell me, Eric!” she demands.

“I thought,” his whole body tightens under her grip, “I thought you were the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen.” His voice sounds so serene, and then he’s wailing, howling, moaning as his body quakes trying to hold him up. His come spills out in front of him in quick bursts, and she grips his cock tightly through the whole thing.

She steadies him with her weight for a few moments before he rotates around in her arms, so they are stomach to stomach, flush, her clothed body against his naked form.

She smiles, whispers, “Was that really what you thought? That I'm beautiful?”

“Yes.” He leans down and kisses her on the nose. “That, and how much I wanted to fuck you right there.”  
Tris laughs. That’s the Eric she knows.

“I doubt Christina would’ve liked that.” She smirks at him.

“Aren’t Candors all exhibitionists?”

“Fine, then maybe next time.” She squeezes him tightly, plants a kiss in the middle of his chest, and slips out of his office before she does anything else rash, leaving Eric in a naked haze.

He’s pretty sure he’s fallen deep.

Several hours later, Tris is laying face up in her bunk in the transfer dorms, completely awake. She can’t stop thinking about the past couple days, and playing back all of the choices she made—choices she could never have seen herself making just a few short weeks ago. Was this inside her all along or was Dauntless really changing her this much? She notices she doesn’t feel any of the usual trademark Abnegation shame, and smiles at the thought.

One thought dances across her mind though and she latches onto it. She falls asleep thinking about it. She wakes up thinking about it. She eats breakfast and does her morning weapons training still thinking about it:

She’s never kissed Eric.

Well, technically, he hasn’t kissed her either. But he’d offered up his body to her, completely vulnerable in front of her, and she hadn’t even kissed him. She knows what sound he makes when he comes, but she doesn’t know what his lips taste like on hers.

She has to fix this immediately.

She jumps up from the lunch table with a little too much eagerness, and Christina and Will both look up at her skeptically.

“I left my knives in the training room,” Tris exclaims, a terrible lie, and widens her eyes at Christina, hoping she gets the message. Christina can read all her lies, and Tris is hoping this one is blatant enough to hint to Christina that she needs a cover.

Message received. “Ooooh, right, of course. See you at the fence tour later?” Chris lies smoothly.

Tris nods vigorously and bounds out of the mess hall towards Eric’s office. She’s quickly disappointed to find that he’s not in his office, but she runs into Jocelyn on the way to the training hall and figures it’s worth a shot asking Eric’s best friend. Tris has seen Jocelyn and her boyfriend (Dave, she thinks?) eat with Eric in the mess hall, and once she saw them carrying him drunkenly through the Pit. She’s never spoken to them, but it couldn’t hurt to ask. Before she gets the chance, Jocelyn sidles up to her and starts talking.

“Tris, right? The new Abnie transfer?” Jocelyn says, and Tris is a little surprised that she already knows her name.

“And you’re Jocelyn, right? Eric’s friend?”

“But don’t hold that against me,” Jocelyn laughs, and it’s that free unbridled kind of laugh only Dauntless have. “I’m kidding! Listen, he’d hate if I told you this, but that big scary instructor of yours is actually a giant puppy.”

Tris blushes and bites her lip.

“Or do you already know that?”

The blush intensifies.

“Umm, do you know where he is? I have to..?” Tris wracks her brain, but she knows literally anything she says after that last innuendo will just make it sound worse.

“Oh a lunchtime tryst, I love it!” Jocelyn croons. “Yea, he’s home right now, 7th floor of the Spire, B9.” Jocelyn winks conspiratorially at Tris, gives her arm a quick squeeze, and saunters off around the corner.

Well if she wasn’t already the faction’s most obvious flooze, this would cement it. No point in backing out now anyway, since Eric would surely hear about this from Jocelyn later.

Tris makes her way up to Eric’s apartment in a haze. Her fist knocks itself against the door completely against her will. _Oh well, here we go._

Eric answers a few moments later, looking a bit groggy and disheveled, with creases in his cheeks and sporting crumpled pajama pants. His tousled hair and heavy eyelids communicate a clear picture, and Tris feels very guilty about waking him up.

But she also takes a second to think just how _soft_ he looks. Something tightens in her belly.

“Tris?” Eric warily asks. He closes his eyes, smirks wickedly and adds, “Oh I'm dreaming.”

Without thinking, Tris grips Eric behind the neck and pulls herself up to plant a soft kiss on his lips. His eyes shoot open at the contact and they split apart. His foggy grey gaze studies her sleepily, until awareness dawns on his face. He scoops her up in his arms and kisses her, hard, desperately seeking deeper contact.

They stumble backwards into his apartment, still lip-locked, until he sets her down on top of his kitchen table. He pulls away just a couple of inches and lets their foreheads touch while they catch their breath. He stands between her knees with his hands on either thigh, eyes searching hers rapidly.

Tris gnaws on her bottom lip, desperately wishing for Eric to reconnect, but waiting to see what he will do. Finally she can’t wait any longer, and she tilts her head up to reach his lips, sucking his bottom lip into her lips and grazing her teeth against it as she releases it. He lets out a shuddering whimper and collapses his head onto her shoulder.

“You ok? Eric?” Tris asks when he doesn’t come up for a minute.

He stays with his forehead pressed to the junction of her neck and shoulder, breath sweeping down the front of her tank top, and groans, “Just…new.”

She thinks for a second. “New?”

Eric collects himself, straightens back up, and takes Tris’ face in his hands. He stares into her eyes sharply, and Tris is certain she has never seen him look so fierce. He kisses her, but this time it’s soft. His hands are gripping her jaw with such force compared to the almost whispered kisses he plants all across her face now.

“The kiss? It was your first? But I thought…”

“No, not my first,” he says between kisses. “Just not something I do,” he leans back, not letting go of her face, “with just anyone.”

“Oh,” she says, blushing furiously. Her legs wrap around the back of his thighs, and pull him closer to her. “Am I just anyone?”

“Hell no.” He kisses her once.

“Oh no? Who am I?” she demands.

“You’re Tris fucking Prior.” He attacks her mouth, sucking her lip between his and sweeping his tongue along the inner edge, teasingly. “You’re the most Dauntless woman I've ever met.” He groans into her lips, her lips parting further to let his tongue in. He explores her mouth hungrily, their tongues dancing and sparring as they each try to touch and taste every part of the other. His mouth pulls away from hers with a resounding pop. “You’re mine.”

“Yes!” It bursts out of her, she doesn’t know where it comes from. She swears Eric growls at her ferociously before his mouth dives back onto her own, again leaving her breathless and unable to retain any thoughts.

His hands push up from her thighs to her waist, his fingers digging bruises into her hips. His fingers stutter at the edge of her shirt, his muscles flexing and holding him back. He groans into her mouth, “Skin.”

“What?”

“Skin, please, I need it. Last night when I saw you, and then you touched me and I couldn’t touch you..” his words are all slurring together as he pleads into her lips

“Please I need to touch you, can I touch you?” Eric begs.

Tris takes only a millisecond to decide, before cocking an eyebrow at him in challenge. “You can touch me anywhere there isn’t a bruise.” She watches as his pulse thrums just below the skin of his neck, as his arms move with such restraint, sliding her shirt slowly up her stomach, revealing soft, pale skin, peppered with bruises and the occasional cut.

She lifts her arms, letting him push the shirt all the way off. He sets it neatly on the back of a chair. He moves his hands gently across the skin between her breasts, hooking his finger in the front of her bra. He looks at her and she nods, his hands nimbly moving around the back to unhook the clasp and slide it off her arms.

He drapes her bra on the chair as well and takes a step back. He lifts her butt off the table enough to pull her pants down, peeling each leg off like a stocking, reverent and enraptured.

When all that is left is her underwear, Eric brings his fingers up to the waistband and once again looks up to Tris for confirmation. She bites her lip but doesn’t nod, and Eric’s hands immediately release the fabric, sliding down her thighs to rest briefly on her ankles.

He takes a step back and stares at her. He gives that same hungry, up and down look he’d done when she stood clothed in his office the night before, but she is distinctly aware that this time she is almost completely naked.

He stares at her, not moving, until she starts to feel nervous, trying to break the heavy air with a sarcastic joke. “For someone who practically begged to touch me, you’re sure doing a lot of looking and not a lot of touching.”

Eric’s face remains unchanged, his pupils dilated and his gaze intently focused on memorizing every inch. When he doesn’t respond to her quip—normally he never lets a challenge go unanswered—she feels herself let go. She relaxes into his gaze, trusting him to tell her what to do next. Until then, she decides to just let herself bask in it. She lays back on the table, her legs draped over the edge and her arms stretched above her head. She stretches, arching her back up experimentally, and Eric exhales loudly but doesn’t break his gaze.

She starts to get wet. She notices the wetness seeping into the underwear, the underwear she knows he can see, as she is completely exposed right now. For some reason this makes her skin feel warmer, and despite her nudity and the relative coolness of the room, she starts to feel flush.

Eric finally moves closer to her, ever so slowly picking up her left ankle, bringing it up to his lips, kissing the skinny ankle bone first and then up to the strong calf, then around the pointy knee, before switching to the other leg. When he’s kissed up to her knees, he gently moves her legs apart and slides his body between them. He scratches her thighs lightly, occasionally planting small wet kisses along the inner part, but mostly right now, he is watching.

Tris squirms. Every time he strokes or scratches or squeezes, her body mews and bows and shivers. He catalogues every single response in his mind, wishing he had infinite hours to spend here, testing every imaginable possible touch.

She is at once terrified and blissful, content and maddeningly yearning for more, alive and dreaming.

He is careful to follow her orders—kissing borders around bruises, marking the edges of her wounds like they are something to be treasured. His touch is firm and solid, and she almost wishes she hadn’t put any boundaries on him at all, but what he’s doing right now is too good for her to want to interrupt.

He kisses up her sides to her soft belly, newly developing ab muscles peaking through as she flexes and tenses under his lips.

When his tongue circles below her navel, she squeals. “It tickles,” she giggles.

“Noted,” he chuckles back.

His big hands slide along her torso up to her chest, where Tris pushes up into his touch. He kneads her breasts in his palms, leaning in to suck her left nipple into his mouth as his fingers pinch the other and roll it until it hardens. Tris moans and her hips involuntarily buck up into him.

“Now now, none of that,” Eric scolds, using one hand to steady her hips while the other continues teasing her eager nipple.

“No?”

“Ok, maybe later,” Eric concedes.

“Wow, big strong Eric Coulter is such a pushover.”

“Shh,” Eric quiets her, pressing his lips to hers, then resuming his slow discoveries of her body.

They continue like this for ages, Eric never once trying to take off her panties again or even touching any of his own clothes.

Tris is completely blissed out, feeling like his lips are leaving tiny electrical shocks in their wake. She doesn’t know how much time passes, but she is more than content to let him explore her like this for as long as he likes.

Eventually, Eric snakes his arms behind Tris’ back and leans her up until she is wrapped around him. He holds her like this for a minute, leaving soft kisses along her neck and up her jaw to her ear. “Thank you,” he whispers, his breath sending goosebumps down her spine, making her wiggle in his arms.

“For what?”

“For trusting me with this, with you… most people wouldn’t.”

“I'm not most people, remember?”

His arms pull her closer, until she feels like his body is all around hers, encasing her.

“I remember.”

After her lunch date (if you can call it that) with Eric, Tris floats through the rest of training on a cloud made of lust and happiness.


	7. DANCE/FIGHT

The next couple days, things start to shift. The practice session in Tobias’ landscape had helped her understand better how to use but also hide her divergence in a fear sim, but practicing in her own sims is proving more difficult.

Her times are fast. Too fast. She is suspiciously good and all the wrong people were noticing. If she had a target on her back before, now it’s her whole body.

Tris starts to climb the ranks, and people look at her with jealousy and frustration. By the end of the week her times are averaging just over three minutes, followed distantly by Uriah with a seven minute average, then Edward with nine. She is immensely grateful that Peter has been removed from training due to the chasm incident, because at least her fellow initiates aren’t looking at her the way the Dauntless leaders are.

She works with Four over the next few days, desperately pouring all her energy and attention into finding a Dauntless solution to her fears. She only gets to work through a handful with him, and she has no way of knowing how many will pop up during her final test in the fear landscape room.

She’s so scared of being caught and so focused on passing the exam, that she doesn’t realize she hasn’t seen Eric in a few days.

“Avoiding me, stiff?” he smirks at her lazily when she wanders into the training room one morning. He picks dirt out from under his nails and tries to look casual.

“No, it’s just—“ She tries to think of a reason other than the truth, other than that she is divergent. She doesn’t know what he will say if he finds out.

“You don’t have to make excuses,” he says a bit more solemnly, his smirk fading into a pressed line. “I know you and Four have been spending a lot of time together—“

“It’s not like that!” She doesn’t know why she’s defending herself, and she doesn’t know why she’s lying, but he just frustrates her so much.

“It is. And that’s ok. But I still want to see you sometimes.”

Her anger bubbles away and makes room for a small smile and a soft warmth. “Me too.”

“Good,” he perks up immensely. “There’s a party tonight to celebrate the last night of initiation. Save me a dance?”

“A dance?” she gawks. She’s never danced before.

“Don’t worry stiff, I'll lead.” He winks and walks out of the room.

That night Tris asks Christina to help her get dressed up for the dance. The Dauntless born initiates said it’s a “dress to kill” event and Tris has literally no idea where to start with that.

Christina is overjoyed, playing with Tris like a doll, primping her up and strapping her into a tight black dress with strategically placed cut outs. It’s night and day to the sundress Four saw her in. While that flowed like water around her, this one clings to her and hugs her form. This is the most skin she’s ever shown in public and she isn’t even scared.

Chris is so proud.

Tris saunters into the dance with a feigned confidence Chris imparted on her. She scans the crowd, but only for a second before she locks eyes with Eric across the Pit floor. His whole face lights up, but he schools it back into a cocky smile and swaggers over to where she is standing.

As he approaches her, Tris takes in the sight. She has never seen Eric wear anything that isn’t uniform-like, but right now he is wearing a blood red button down shirt pulled tight across his pecs and a pair of black pants that might be leather if she dared touch them. She wants to devour him.

Somewhere between the ledge where he was standing and the entrance where Tris is, Eric collects two other Dauntless members. The three would make an intimidating sight, if it weren’t for the second man, who is probably already drunk and definitely a little too friendly.

They stop to hug and say hi to nearly everyone on their path, and Eric looks more and more irritated. Halfway across the Pit floor, Eric gives up on his friend, and he and Jocelyn continue through the Pit to Tris.

Eric finally steps up to the bottom step of the entrance where Tris is patiently waiting, and throws her a small smirk. He opens his mouth, presumably to greet her, but instead the woman to his left pipes up first.

“Tris!” Jocelyn practically squeals.

“You’ve met?” Eric glances suspiciously between the two women.

“Oh yea, Tris and I go way back,” Jocelyn winks.

“Well that saves me some effort. Tris, this is Josh, my oldest and closest friend.”

Tris reaches out a tentative hand to shake and Josh pulls her in for a fierce hug.

“Eric does not stop talking about you! I’d love to see you fight. If you’re half as quick as Eric says—“

“That’s enough, Josh,” Eric interrupts curtly.

“No, let her finish. I'm very interested in what reputation I've got around here.” Tris smiles slyly. “Do go on,” she gestures to Jocelyn.

“And that stunt with the knives! That was the topic of conversation at the Pit Bar for days!” as Jocelyn gushes, Eric looks somewhere between embarrassed and about to stab someone, probably Josh.

“Really?” Tris teases. “I thought he hated me for that,” she says to Josh, but stares directly at Eric.

“Oh he always acts like that, but if you can actually get a rise out of him, that’s when you know—“

“Heeeey!” Dave shoves into the group, and Eric looks instantly relieved.

“Never thought I’d be happy to see your ugly mug!” Eric claps Dave on the back. “Tris, this is Dave.”

Dave also refuses Tris’ handshake in favor of a big, handsy hug.

“So soft for a stiff.” Dave snuggles into the hug, drunkenly.

Eric pulls him off, glaring at him like an untrained puppy. “Ok enough introductions.”

“You know you love us,” Dave grins sloppily.

Jocelyn grabs him by the hand and pulls him off to the dance floor, calling out behind her, “Well you two kids have fun!” and with a wink they disappear into the crowd.

“Sorry. About them.” Eric looks contrite, and a little irritated.

“It’s fine, it’s actually..nice? Honestly, I never pictured you having friends, so—“  
“Why? Because I'm an asshole?” Eric cocks an eyebrow at her accusingly.  
“Sure, that, but you also kinda seem to hate everyone?” Tris admits.

“Oh I do, but those two assholes just stuck around anyway,” he laughs to himself.

Tris smiles and looks at her feet.

“So, may I have this dance?” he extends a hand in a gentlemanly way that doesn’t match the lustful eyes he gives her.

“Umm..” Tris looks out at the dance floor and sees the girating masses and this is not what she expected. They are practically humping out there and the music booms rhythmically in a way that makes her heart thump.

“Do you trust me?” he stares at her wolfishly. She has every reason not to but she nods. He takes her by the hand and leads her out into the crowd.

When they are in the middle of the dance floor she takes in the bodies around her and stares up at him questioningly.

“I said I’d lead,” he whispers. She nods again. He places his hands firmly on her hips and rotates her around until her back is flush with his front. He bends her forward slightly so she is grinding her ass into his groin. She blushes furiously but tries to follow the motions as he manipulates her hips in time with the music.

He dances like he fights, with incredible power and impossible fluidity, practiced precision mixed with improvisation in a way that makes her body sing.

Once she starts to get the hang of the music, she feels his grip on her loosening, his hands roaming a bit more freely, occasionally ghosting across the skin exposed by her dress. He leans into her ear and rasps, “You look so good tonight,” before biting her earlobe and continuing his dancing.

She loses herself to the sounds and sensations for a few sweet minutes, all her inhibitions drowned out by the loudly thrumming beat of the base in time with her heart.

A few songs later she feels his body yanked from hers and she turns around fast enough to see Four’s fist connecting with Eric’s jaw.

Eric stumbles backwards and holds a hand to his face. “What the hell, Four?” he screams.

“Me? What the hell are you doing to Tris?!” Four growls, advancing.

“Four stop!” Tris yells, but the music is loud and the crowd around them is already circling to watch the fight.

“I thought we were dancing,” Eric spits back.

Tris is pushed aside by the gathering onlookers as they slowly circle one another.

“You were groping her! You were violating her!” Four is enraged, fists ready to attack.

“I thought she liked it,” Eric snickers, but he doesn’t get into fighting position.

At that, Four lunges for Eric, landing a fist in his gut. The fight starts in an explosion of cheers from the crowded Dauntless onlookers. They lash out at one another, strikes hitting ribs and stomachs and faces until Tris finally pushes her way through the cheering crowd to jump in between them.

“Stop stop stop you idiots stop!” she cries out but they are still mid swing and a stray elbow-Four’s-lands smack in her eye and she topples over, knocked out cold.

Both men freeze before rushing to her side.

“Oh god Tris I'm so sorry,” Four shakes next to her as she comes to.  
Eric snatches her up in his arms, carrying her out past Four. Zeke and Shauna tumble into the circle and gather Four up, shaking and mumbling apologies.


	8. THE FINAL TEST

When Tris wakes up, she’s in the infirmary. She’s been here enough times to recognize the smell before she opens her eyes. But she also recognizes that tangy musk of Eric lingering in the room.

She opens her eyes, but he isn’t there. Huh.

Out of her not-stitched and swelling eye, she can see Will and Christina hovering over her bed.

“Eric?” she croaks.

“He and Four are in Max’s office getting reamed out right now,” Will spills.

“Want to tell me what the hell is going on?” Christina implores.

“I was dancing,” she murmurs before falling back asleep.

Inside Max’s office, both Eric and Four are eerily silent. Max is just grateful that they stopped shouting and punching at one another long enough for him to lecture them properly and send them out.

Outside Max’s office, Four grabs Eric roughly by the wrist before he turns. Eric is still reeling from Four’s accusation that he would somehow—ever—violate Tris, but also hyper aware of their setting.

He pulls his arm back calmly, and in an icy chill says, “What can I do for you, Four? Was the dressing down from Max not enough for you?”

Four’s glare matches his own, with equal parts heat and hurt. “I know this is just another stupid competition for you, that she’s just some pawn in your whole fucked up plan—“  
“Wow, leave it to a stiff to reach new heights of narcissism!” Eric interrupts, losing bits of his calm demeanor every second he stands here. “Not everything is about you, you know.”

“Then what? Why her? What do you want with her?” Four’s eyes dissect Eric’s face as Eric trains himself back into his frozen smirk.

“I think you know why,” Eric holds Four’s gaze, and adds,“and whatever she is willing to give me.” Four blanches.

Eric turns to leave again but Four calls after him. “She would never be with someone so—vicious.”

Eric spins back around and towers down over Four, his muscles tightening with restraint. “Take a look at yourself, Four. I’m not the one who punched her in the eye. I’m not the one who sliced her ear. Who’s the real threat to her?” he seethes, and with that he huffs off, leaving Four struck, barely holding himself together.

The next time Tris wakes, the nurse tells her she is discharged, and gives her some ointment for her swollen eye. She makes her way down to the fear landscape room, knowing even this injury can’t get her out of the final test.

When she arrives, both Eric and Four are in the observation area, sitting at opposite ends with Lauren, Veronica, Harrison, and a whole lot of tension between them.

Max greets her at the entrance and since he acts like nothing happened last night, she does too. He tells her she will be last, since they go in reverse rank order, so she waits in the corridor for her name.

“Tris?” Tori pops out from the room. “I'll be administering your test today. Follow me,” Tori intones briskly, no hint of their familiarity in her voice. She leads Tris to a reclined medical chair and moves her hair aside to place the syringe into her neck. “Good luck, Tris. I hope you make it,” Tori adds as Tris drifts off into the sim.

The first few sims are familiar. She’s practiced them all week with Four. There’s the crows, the tank, and burning at the stake, all passed easily thanks to her week-long strategizing. Then there are a couple fears she hadn’t practiced before—drowning in open water, and the especially terrifying sim where she is asked to shoot her family. At the last possible moment she turns the gun on her own head instead. For a second she thinks maybe that was a divergent thing to do, but the sim dissolves and she is back in the fear landscape room.

Eric, who was over to the side observing, sidles up to her and places his hand on her shoulder. “Congratulations Tris, you did great.” He smiles warmly.

Four walks over from the same area and grabs her left hand. “You’re done now, come with me.” He starts to lead her out of the chair, but Eric’s hand holds her back.

“No, you need to stay here for a few minutes and let the serum work it’s way out.” He grits. She starts to feel her heart rate rise. She notices the other leaders are watching the scene unfold intently.

“Ok, I'll stay here for a minute and then I'll—“ she tries to negotiate calmly, but Four starts to tug her arm again.

“No, you are coming with me right NOW,” he barks.

Eric’s hand latches onto her shoulder, digging into her flesh and she yelps.

“No, you are staying with ME,” Eric seethes, his face red and angry.

Four jerks her arm, hard, and she cries out, but Eric is yanking her back. She is jostled between the two men until it feels like they could very nearly rip her in half. She can feel her skin bruising and fabric of her shirt tearing at their force.

And then they begin to tear at each other too. She is caught between them, both victim and the prize in their unrelenting war. Her heart starts to pound until she can’t even think, can’t even hear.

She closes her eyes, and in that moment she finally sees it. This is a sim. A fear. Her worst fear. They will tear her apart or she will lose them both. How can she face this like a Dauntless? _Think._

_No, not think. Punch._

She swings her free arm and it hits Four in the chin with a loud thunk. He is stunned and loses his grip on her other arm. She turns and uppercuts Eric and then kicks him in the stomach so he falls back too. “Fuck both of you!” she screams and the simulation fades around her.

She snaps up in the chair, and the room looks just the same as in her last sim, but less glossy. She knows this is the real one. Tori helps her out of her chair, and she quickly leads her to the exit, Tris not daring to glance towards the observation area.

“It looked good to me, Tris,” Tori encourages her in hushed tones. Tris nods, but she honestly isn’t even thinking about the fear landscapes right now.

She shuffles to the mess hall on instinct, and collapses down at a table next to Uriah, Lynn, and Christina. Some of the others have gone to pack up in the dorms, since they will all either get their Dauntless apartments tonight or be sent to live factionless.

Everyone looks a bit shell-shocked, so no one notices that Tris is silent. She picks at her food and thinks.

Who knows how long later, Jocelyn slams down in the seat next to her and startles her back to focus.

“Hey, Tris,” Jocelyn chirps, but her eyes look far too devilish to match the tone.

“Hi Josh..” Tris mumbles.

“Just wanted to check in with you about a certain mutual friend of ours,” she coos, picking an apple off of Tris’ tray and inspecting it. “I thought you and I were going to be friends too,” she says in a strangely sweet voice, chomping down on the apple with a bit too much teeth. “But then I heard, or, a little _birdy_ told me,” she strokes the crows on Tris’ collarbone with her fingertips, and Tris shivers and flinches away, “that you were whoring around with Number Boy behind his back.” Her voice is raised now, and her calm exterior cracks to reveal the fire below.

By now everyone at the table, and a few surrounding tables, is staring at the two women.

In as calm of a voice as she can muster, Tris replies, “I'm not _whoring around_ with anyone. What I do with Four is none of your business.”

“It is if you’re fucking my best friend!” Jocelyn yells, and Tris jumps out of her seat. Jocelyn leaps up beside her, about to tear into her, when a voice booms from across the Pit. “Josh stop!”

Tris recognizes Eric’s voice and is completely unsure what to expect now.

“Josh you fucking dick leave her alone!” Eric scowls as he runs towards them.

“She’s cheating on you! I saw her with him!” Jocelyn screams back, and turns back to Tris. “What the fuck were you doing with him?” She starts to interrogate Tris but Eric yanks Jocelyn away by the collar.

“She doesn’t have to explain a damn thing to me. I never asked her to.” He scolds her, gripping her shirt so hard his knuckles are white. He turns to Tris, and in a softer voice only she can hear, leans in and whispers “I'm sorry, Tris. I am willing to take whatever you are willing to give me, and nothing more. I hope you know that.” He turns his scowl back on Jocelyn, and he yanks her out of the mess hall by the shirt, as she complains loudly the whole way.

“What the hell was that?” Christina demands predictably, as soon as Eric and Jocelyn have cleared the Pit.

“That’s…Jocelyn. She’s a friend of Eric’s,” Tris offers shakily.

“I know who she is, I just want to know why she thinks you are cheating on Four,” Christina lowers her voice, “Are you?” Tris and Four have spent enough time in each other’s company of late that her best friend has definitely noticed. That, coupled with the incident at the party, means Chris has decided she and Four must clearly be an item.  
“What? Now you want to question me too?” Tris’ face wrinkles in an indignant scowl.

“They say she transferred from Erudite because the only knowledge she values is gossip. She’s like, known for knowing things,” Christina swoons a little.

“Great, well it seems like she doesn’t know everything, Chris,” Tris grabs the rest of her muffin and pushes her way out of the mess hall before Christina can continue her interrogation.

Tris is shaken, so she heads back to the initiate dorm to pack her things. At least there, she can probably expect not to see either Four or Eric.

She was wrong. Four is already waiting for her on her bunk when she arrives. The rest of the dorm is completely empty. He looks distraught and he is wringing his hands.

She takes a step towards him but he holds out his hands to stop her. “Please, don’t come near me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Four—“

“I just came to say I'm sorry. Fuck Tris I'm so sorry,” he shakes and sobs silently on her bed. She stands a few feet away, so overwhelmed and confused she doesn’t know what to do. “I hurt you,” he cries.

She can’t help but come closer until she’s within reach. “You didn’t—“

He grips his arms around his knees and shakes. “I hurt you I hurt you I hurt you I…” his voice trails off into heaving sobs.

Tris tries to reach out to touch him but he flinches away.

“You would never hurt me!” Tris yells, exasperated and nearly in tears. “You would never hurt me!” she sobs softly, dropping to her knees beside the bed. “You love me…” she sighs out with the very last of her energy. She drops her head on the bed and cries.

She doesn’t know how long they cry for, just that every confusing, frustrating, and terrifying thing she has experienced these last few weeks pours out through her eyes until there isn’t anything left. After a while, a hand comes out to tuck a stray clump of hair behind her ear. She doesn’t move, just lets the hand stroke the side of her face, a calloused thumb arcing across her cheekbone to wipe away a tear.

“I do.” Four says softly, all the pain gone from his voice, replaced with a gentle certainty. “I love you. You’re right, you’re always right. How do you do that?” She ventures to open her eyes and sees him marveling at her like a miracle.

She crawls up from the floor and weaves herself into his arms, tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder. “I love you too.” Her voice is barely audible, but he hears her, and she feels him smile with his whole body.

After a while she feels him sigh and feels his jaw tense against her temple.

“What is it?”

“I trust you to make your own decisions, but I need you to have all the information.”

“About what?”

“He’s not…good, Tris.” She immediately knows who he means.  
“Tobias..” she cautions.

“No, I mean, he’s dangerous. He killed someone,” he warns.

“Isn’t that part of being Dauntless?” she defends softly, mostly to keep herself from jumping to conclusions.

“For being divergent,” he says, his voice angry.

“What do you mean?”  
“Our trainer, when we were initiates, Amar. He was helping me figure out the fear sims. Eric heard us talking about being divergent and ran off like a scared dog. The next day they said Amar had killed himself, but he would have never—he wouldn’t have done that.”

Four explains what he knows. It’s not much but he’s figured out at least that there are Dauntless-Erudite plots to hunt divergents, that Eric is entrenched in these plans as a leader.

By the time he finishes he is seething and shaking again. Tris holds him and soothes him as he steadies his breathing, but she doesn’t say anything.

What can she say? She has to trust Four, but nothing that Four said actually proves Eric killed Amar…does it? No-she trusts Eric. She trusts them both. But one of them has to be wrong, right?

They stay there, huddled like that, until Tris hears the others coming back to the dorms. Four plants a kiss on her forehead and says goodnight, ducking out just before Will and Christina round the corner into the dorm.

“Tris! The rankings are going up in fifteen minutes, we’ve been looking for you!” Christina shouts as soon as she sees her.

“Everyone’s gathering in the Pit!” Will adds. They are clearly happy, Tris thinks, even though half of the initiates will get cut tonight. And then she notices. They are holding hands.


	9. ONE

In the Pit it’s like Dauntless has come alive, a swarming colony of bees drinking and hollering and buzzing around the initiates as they wait for the final rankings.

Max quiets the excited crowd with a gesture, and starts some speech about Dauntless being the warrior faction. She doesn’t know what he says exactly because standing right next to him, alongside all the other leaders, is Eric.

Eric who makes her so angry she can’t see straight. Eric who makes her body sing and fills her belly with fire. Eric who comforts her and protects her. Eric who killed Amar for being divergent. _No. He wouldn’t._

Her eyes are locked on him, and his on her. She can’t read his expression. She’s so wrapped up in her thoughts she doesn’t notice when the ranks go up. She doesn’t even notice when they start chanting her name around her. She doesn’t notice until someone hoists her up bodily and she is being paraded up to the ledge with her fellow initiates. Paraded, she now notices, directly towards Eric.

She is dropped rather clumsily next to all the leaders, who pass around drinks and toast the newest Dauntless members.

She realizes they are still staring at one another across the group of drinking Dauntless. She takes a drink that’s passed to her and blinks, decides she can’t deal with this right now in front of all these people.

When she looks back up Eric is beside her. “So, first jumper and first in her class? I ought to start calling you _One,_ ” Eric tries to break the ice. Tris just looks up at him, drained and blank.

“They’ve assigned you your new apartment,” he tries again. “How about I walk you over there and you can get some rest,” he says, with great understanding. She just nods weakly.

They walk in silence towards her new apartment, stopping by the old dorms to grab the few items she owns. Eric offers to carry her bag but she hoists it on her shoulders, using it as an excuse not to hold his hand or touch him. She can’t even make eye contact with him anymore. She is certain he couldn’t have killed Amar, and yet, she can’t bring herself to ask him.

The second he opens the door to her apartment it all comes spilling out.

“Tell me, Eric!” she screams with an intensity that seems to appear out of nowhere. Somehow the exhaustion has multiplied her already runaway mouth. “How long have you been hunting divergents?”

He’s startled, but quickly schools his face. “You don’t know-“

“Don’t I? Don’t I know that you people have been trying to track me down and kill me since I got to this damn place?” she keeps escalating, her voice rising.

“Tris, you can’t-“

“Don’t I know that you’ve been plotting with Jeanine to destroy us? To destroy me?”

“I would never-“

“Don’t I know that you killed Amar for being divergent?!” and as soon as she says it she wishes she could snatch the words right back.

Eric’s face goes completely pale and he looks like he might fall over in her door way. “Amar?”

“I didn’t mean that! Four told me you…” she can’t find words but he shoves her into the apartment forcefully and closes the door behind them.

“Four?? Four said??” he paces like a madman, not looking at her.

“He said you knew, that Amar was divergent, and then Amar ended up dead, but he didn’t say how he—”

“I know what happened,” he cuts her off.

“You do?”  
“That doesn’t mean I fucking killed him!” he screams at her, but in his eyes are unshed tears. His hands pull at his hair and his muscles are tight and bulging with restrained rage.

“Oh god,” Tris chokes on her words, “I know that, I know you wouldn’t.”

“Please Tris, you have to know I never meant to hurt him, I—I loved him.” He collapses onto the floor with his back on the door and buries his head in his lap.

Tris sinks down on the wall next to him so their arms are touching.

“Tell me.”

He does. It comes out in short bursts at firsts, strangely specific details and minutia. Then it pours out of him like he can’t stop himself. His voice fades from rage to fear to hurt to every emotion in between.

This is what she gathers:

Amar was Eric and Four’s initiation trainer. He was uncommonly kind and charismatically funny, and easily broke down Eric’s stifling Erudite people-aversion. They were fast friends, and soon more. Eric found himself head over heals for Amar, his first love.

One night, during Eric and Four’s initiation, Eric swung by the fear landscape room after hearing Amar would be finishing up there shortly. He rounded the corner and glimpsed Amar leaving the room with Four, the self-righteous jerk who constantly outranked Eric no matter how hard Eric tried.

The two men were standing close, huddled together whispering.

In a jealous rage, Eric had stormed off, only to make such a racket that Amar heard him and came chasing after.

Eric had screamed at Amar, claiming Amar was cheating on him with Four. Amar calmed Eric like he somehow always could, and shared with Eric the real reason for his and Four’s secret meeting. Amar was divergent. That’s what he was telling Four. Eric was furious that Amar chose to tell Four his secret but also terrified now that he knew.

Having just transferred from Erudite, Eric knew very little about divergents except that his former faction said they were disgusting freaks.

Eric panicked and left Amar there, heading towards the Pit Bar to drink away his confusions.

Halfway through his seventh drink he started getting talkative. He was confused and drunk and young and stupid and he made one stupid comment about “catching divergence” like it was an STD, and then he blacked out.

Later that night two hooded figures broke into Amar’s apartment, wielding serum injectors. Eric showed up to apologize, still somewhat drunk, just as they were injecting Amar with one of the syringes. Eric fought hard, but not hard enough. A needle sunk into his neck, and as his eyes drifted closed he could just barely see Amar’s limp body dragged from the open door.

When he wakes up, he is in a conference room in the Pire. Jeanine Matthews sits across from him, behind her, Max.

“Good morning Mr. Coulter,” Jeanine’s crisp voice cuts through the haze of the remaining serum. “How would you like to be a Dauntless leader?”

Eric doesn’t understand. All he can think is- “Amar?”

“Yes, we know you were involved in the unfortunate incident that led to the trainer’s death” _Amar is dead?_ Eric’s heart drops into his stomach. “But Max has graciously agreed not to punish you for said infraction if you agree to work with us,” she said it so matter-of-factly that Eric is convinced he deserves to be punished. _Amar is dead. What does it matter what they do to me?_

Eric nods in agreement. He had no idea what he agreed to. But it’s not like he had a choice. They’d just kill him too. Maybe he should let them, he thinks, but then he lets the thought go as a coward’s way out.

He steels himself, lets all of the hope and love and lust and possibility aching in his chest fade behind an impenetrable wall. His eyes harden and his jaw clenches. He leaves the room, and with it, whoever he had been before.

He always blamed himself for Amar’s death, always wondered if he had something to do with it. But some small part of him also always wondered if Four had been involved, if Four had told on Amar to save his own hide.

Within days the rumor spread that Eric had been involved in Amar’s death. He didn’t know how the rumor started, but he let it grow. Every time someone sneered at him or whispered behind his back it felt like penance. He deserved this. He deserves this.

When he finishes his story, he pauses. After a deep breath, he tells Tris that he knows she’s divergent. He’s known for a while. He could never let what happened to Amar happen to her. He’s trying everything he can to delay Jeanine’s plans and destroy their progress from within. He’s already gotten the simulation she’s cooking up pushed back a few months.

But it’s not enough. It will never be enough. He will work his whole life and never make up for what he’s lost.

When Eric finishes talking, his cheeks are wet with tears and his body is crumpled in a ball.

Before he even opens his eyes, Tris has her arms wrapped around him. This tiny, soft thing, encompassing his massive form, like he was a child.

She slowly rocks him in her arms and presses her forehead into his and says, “I've got you, I know you didn’t do it. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. I've got you.” She keeps repeating these little phrases to him softly as she strokes his back and he shudders out the last of his tears. He hasn’t cried since Amar died, and even then he drowned his emotions down a bottle of whiskey.

A couple minutes later Eric feels a drop on his chest, looks up at Tris to find that she has started silently weeping as she continues to soothe him.

“Tris, you’re, why are you...?“ Eric’s voice is strained and his mouth dry from crying.

“I can’t imagine how much it hurt…if I lost you I—“ Tris chokes down a sob.

Eric holds her tighter and listens as she sobs, for him, at his pain, at the very concept of losing him.

He is awestruck and dazed.

“You won’t lose me,” it comes out quiet and stuttering. He clears his throat and speaks with as much strength as he can muster, “I'm not going anywhere, Tris, I love you.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth he feels an unimaginable pain in his chest.

He’s felt this once before—with Amar—and now here he is, risking that pain again for Tris.

He is certainly Dauntless.

Tris grips Eric’s face in her hands, steadying herself and slowing her breathing as she studies his face intently.

Eric doesn’t have any idea what she is looking for, but when their eyes connect, he knows she’s found it, her face instantly lighting up.

“I love you too,” she says, smiling brightly.

He grins, corny and wide, and plants a tiny kiss on her nose before pulling her in to melt into her lips.

They kiss, and it’s bruising and desperate, the taste of tears fresh on their lips. Their bodies press firmly and their hands paw for purchase. They attack each other with such force that neither one can forget that this is real. They kiss so hard that their teeth clank and they start to laugh. And soon that’s all they’re doing. Laughing. Laughing so hard their sides hurt, laughing so much they start to cry again. Laughing and crying and letting go all of the fear and pain and emotions this day has brought them.

When the laughter dies down, Tris feels like she might collapse if she weren’t already in Eric’s lap. Without a word, he lifts her, carries her to her new bed, and lays her down gently.

He pulls her blanket up over her, and leans down to kiss her on the nose.

“Goodnight Tris,” he whispers into her lips, and then he’s gone and she’s asleep.

That night she dreams of the fear simulations.

She’s in the fear landscape room again, and Eric and Four are on either side of her. Instead of tearing her apart though, they seem to be putting her back together. She feels them stitching together her heart in their hands and wakes up smiling.


	10. UNFAMILIAR TERRITORY

Tris loves two men. She does. She’s absolutely certain about both of them. She never pictured herself falling for anyone, let alone two someones. Two very different someones.

Sure, they’re both stubborn and strong, passionate, and brave.

But Eric is goofy and flirty while Four is gentle and caring. Four holds her like she is precious and like he will never hurt her. Eric tosses her around on the sparring mat like he knows she can’t be broken. Eric teases her and challenges her, Four tells her exactly what he means when he means it. Four looks down before a shy smile crosses his lips, Eric grins from ear to ear. Eric makes her feel powerful, Four makes her feel special.

They both kiss her like she is their only source of air. They both make her body and her heart feel things she didn’t know it could feel. They both love her. She loves them both. She does. She can’t help it.

The entire time he’s in the leadership meeting this morning, Eric can’t stop thinking about his conversation with Tris. He knows Tris trusts him now, but he is so blindingly angry with Four for trying to poison her against him. For thinking he could ever hurt Amar. Or Tris.

He spends the entire morning thinking through every single word he wants to say, every question he wants to ask.

He had intended for it to be a civilized conversation, the Erudite part of himself certain he could contain the welling emotions enough to clear the air.

The walk from the leaders’ conference room to the Control Room is long though, and by the time Eric is rounding the last corner to the tech hallway, he is fuming.

Each flight he climbs brings back floods of memories and emotions, just stirred enough by his encounter with Tris that they feel impossibly fresh.

When he grips the handle to the Control Room door, he is seething, his face purple from barely controlled rage. He throws himself into the room angry and spitting and almost in tears already.

“How could you think I could—fuck YOU—you of all people!” Eric shouts at Four.

Luckily, Four sits alone in the Control Room, and turns cautiously around in his chair to face Eric. It takes a second to click what Eric is yelling at him for this time.

“What are you—“

“AMAR!” Eric wails.

“Tris told you what I said, did she?” he tries to play dry and unconcerned.

“Yes she fucking told—” Four just shakes his head, getting up to leave “seriously stiff? You going to walk away from me right now?”

“Yes, Eric, I am,” Four says as he glares at the blonde man and turns to leave.

Eric grabs him firmly by the arm, and Four can’t help but flinch slightly.

Four turns his head slowly back to Eric and grits out, “What are you gonna do? Throw me off the chasm?”

Eric lets go of Four, and looks genuinely hurt.

Four is confused for a moment but shakes out the thought and continues to the door, when he is stopped by Eric’s quiet words.

“I didn’t throw him off the chasm…I loved him.”

When Four looks back, Eric is looking fiercely at him, eyes watery but as intense and angry as ever—but there is something else behind the steel grey that Four never remembers seeing there before.

“You…?” Four sputters, in disbelief, facing Eric now but still standing several feet away in the doorway.

“I loved him,” Eric says firmly, his eyes never wavering.

Four blinks. He processes. He can’t process. He looks away.

Eric takes a couple steps forward, planting himself only a few feet from Four, allowing him to speak softly.

“I didn’t throw him over the chasm, but I…I honestly don’t know if I'm responsible for his death.” Four glances up and doesn’t see the cold, calculated callousness he normally sees in Eric when Eric talks about disturbing matters. Four doesn’t say anything and Eric continues.

“I let slip that I was hooking up with a possible divergent that night when I was drunk, fuck I was just a dumb drunk kid bragging about his first lay, and then the next day, well…” Four nods, not sure if he is agreeing with Eric, accepting what he is saying as truth, or just asking him to continue. “But I knew he’d told you too, so for a while, I thought—“

“You thought I had...” It clicks into place in Four’s mind—Eric had seen his heated conversation with Amar, knew Amar had shared his secret, and assumed Four got him killed for it. All this time Eric had thought Four was responsible for the death of his first love.

Four takes in this information, and his thoughts are clear on his face. It even becomes clear the moment Four starts to wonder if this isn’t all just another made up plot to fuck with him and Tris.

Eric catches this look spreading across Four’s furrowed brows and takes another step forward, until they are within arms reach of one another. Instead of retreating to safety, Four holds his ground, waiting.

“I would never tell anyone about her,” Eric declares, his words heavy with other unspoken promises.

This snaps Four back into the moment. The strength behind Eric’s words brings heat to Four’s cheeks, and he’s not sure why but he believes them.

“Neither will I,” Four promises, and, a moment later, “and I didn’t tell anyone about Amar.”

Four isn’t sure why he adds this bit, but Eric just nods and calmly replies, “I know. Now.”

“Do you love her?”

“I do,” Eric says firmly and openly.

“Good.”

Things are awkward for a few days, like they are getting their footing on totally unfamiliar terrain. Neither Eric nor Four had ever really expected to stop hating the other, so the bomb that destroyed the deepest part of their rivalry also left them a little unsure of how to act in its absence.

Neither is really ready to be friendly with the other, but something of a companionable civility grows between them. They pass each other in the halls, nodding brusquely at one another, as they would any other Dauntless. They sit relatively near one another during lunches, only Tris and her friends between them. They greet one another casually in lines.

It makes everyone around them very uncomfortable.

“Are they planning something?” Will whispers across the table to Tris one day in the mess hall.

“Who?"  
“Who?! Eric and Four! They have been practically chummy all week! They’ve got something planned,” Uriah whines.

“What are you worried about? Initiation is over!” Zeke chides his little brother.

“Well I don’t like it,” Uriah pouts, comically.

“You’d rather they go back to beating each other up over Tris?” Zeke quips, then at Tris’ death glare, “Sorry Tris, can we not joke about that yet? Because it was hilarious.”

“Ha ha, very funny. Men fighting over women. Men knocking a woman in the face because they are so idiotically fighting over women. Men fighting over women who don’t even give two fucks about their sorry asses!” Christina rants, defending her friend. Chris winks at Tris, conspiratorially.

The day after the final test Tris had finally confessed to her thing with Four, thus explaining a lot of strange information Christina had gathered from her “sources” throughout the Dauntless compound. Tris figures that if Christina really had sources, she would know about Eric too, so she isn’t too worried.

Her relationship with Four is nearly common knowledge at this point, though not “official.” But relationship statuses are a bit more fluid in Dauntless.

No one even thinks to question if Tris has something going on with Eric. Eric doesn’t do relationships, or at least that’s his reputation. He doesn’t mind no one knowing, but he doesn’t stop shamelessly flirting with her in public either. Most of the time people just take it as him being an asshole. He doesn’t mind that either.


	11. TRIS' THRONE

One night, a few days after becoming full members, Tris is with Will and Christina getting drinks at the Pit Bar when Eric slides up next to her. “One stiff drink for the stiff!” he orders from the bartender.

“You can’t call me stiff anymore, I'm officially Dauntless now,” Tris cocks her eyebrow at Eric.

“So I suppose you no longer have any of those strange stiff habits then?”  
She eyes him suspiciously. Her friends watch with curiosity. Watching Tris get into trouble is a favorite past time of their group. Especially since she just doesn’t know how to back down. Or keep her mouth shut.

“Like…you wouldn’t mind showing all your friends here, your new marks?”

“…sure.” She looks confused, but she slowly rotates around and pulls down her shirt around her shoulder to expose a small band she’d gotten tattooed two days ago to commemorate the end of initiation. She’d asked Tori to give her a thin black ring that circled her upper bicep, done in pointillism to represent being part of something greater than yourself, the interdependence of Dauntless.

“Not the tattoo,” Eric scoffs, holding the edge of her skirt as if he might rip it right off her. Her eyes widen and she fidgets uncomfortably.

“What’s he talking about?” Christina finally decides to join the conversation

The mark in question is a darkly purpled bruise surrounded by clear indentations of teeth that he’d left on her ass cheek a the night before. “Nothing, he’s just being an asshole.” She denies.

“Careful who you call asshole, stiff, I'm a leader of this faction,” he threatens, shifting the tone dramatically. This is the drama her friends live for. His too, if they were here. But the incident with Josh has meant his friends have been casually avoiding her for a few days.

“Didn’t you get second in your initiation?” she goads him. Will’s eyes look like they might burst from his head. “And didn’t I get first?”

His lip twitches and his eyes burn bright.

“So tell me _sir_ , you really think you can take me?” she smirks at him too confidently and he practically snarls.

In one swift move he hoists her bodily over his shoulder and bounds out of the bar.

She screams “Help help, a big scary man is threatening me,” but she’s giggling too hard for anyone to hear the words.

He carries her kicking and screaming through several hallways full of Dauntless who seem to think this is totally normal, before throwing open the door to his apartment and tossing her haphazardly onto his bed.

She lands on her back and bounces up to capture him by the wrist, yanking him down with her.

She giggles and kisses him, wrapping her legs around his waist and securing him to her.

“You really are an asshole,” she laughs when their lips break apart.

“I heard a lot of threats out there, but so far it seems like I'm the one pinning you in this fight,” he challenges back.

She uses her grip on his hips to flip them over, him onto his back, and her straddling his stomach, her draped skirt spread over him like a blanket.

“That’s better, stiff,” he says, snaking his hands underneath her skirt. “But you forgot I still have use of my arms.” One hand reaches her underwear and slides across her sensitive nub through the fabric.

A small moan escapes her, and for a few moments she forgets she is trying to fight him and just lets him rub her in small circles through her underwear, liquid pooling on the thin fabric over her core. She feels the pressure building inside her, and grinds her hips onto his fingers, her breathing getting harder and shallower.

“Giving in so easily, I see,” his gravelly voice brings her back to the task at hand. With a sneer she grabs him by both wrists and forcefully pins his arms above his head. Her body is sad to lose the contact between her thighs, but he looks so good all spread out under her like this. She knows he could get out of this hold anytime he wants. But they both know he won’t.

She hovers over him, holding his wrists in place with one hand and just devouring him with her eyes.

“So now that you have all the power, you don’t even know what to do with it, huh?” he teases her mercilessly.

“Shut up, Eric.”

“Or what?” he taunts.

In a rush of instinct and frustration she slides her body up his until her thighs straddle his face, one hand still gripping his wrists. His eyes are inches from her underwear, her skirt hiked up to her waist. She crouches there, sitting on his chest.

“Already so wet for me..” his voice sounds wrecked.

“I said shut up,” she groans, briefly pressing her body against his mouth to get him to stop talking.

His tongue arcs out and licks a thick stripe up her soaked underwear and she shivers.

“Make me,” he’s nearly begging.

She grounds into his face again, and this time he nuzzles his nose deep into her folds through the fabric and just breathes her in.

She shudders above him.

He lets his tongue slide across the damp fabric and circles the spot where her clit would be.

“Oh fuck Eric.” She’s never felt anything like this before. He’s touched her, she’s touched herself, but his tongue even through the fabric is like a goddamn revelation.

He teases her like this until she can’t stand it, releasing his wrists for long enough to sit back on his chest and pull her underwear off hastily.

With his arms freed, he grips her rear end and pulls her back to his lips with force, until his face is buried deep in her core.

His tongue juts out and licks her lips apart, circling around the clit and then back down to plunge into her aching hole.

She groans loudly and he laughs into her.

She grips him by the hair and tugs, forcing him back to work. He goes willingly, like a man starving for her taste alone.

He licks and sucks and kisses her clit, his teeth scraping gently across it before diving back down and invading her hole again with hot strikes.

Soon she is grinding down on him, hard, and using her grip in his hair to keep him exactly where she wants him.

When she comes, she sees stars, her body shaking and thighs clenching around his ears, her juices dripping down his chin. He holds her in place through every last tremor, taking every drop he can get, before she collapses back on his body, spent.

He strokes lightly up and down her thighs as she comes down from her bliss, letting her rest on his body backwards.

“If I knew you’d do that, I’d tease you all the time,” Eric sighs happily.

Tris laughs softly, flips herself over and lays back down on his chest on top of him.

“You better not, you don’t know what I'm capable of. This is just the beginning,” she teases back.

“God I hope so.” He wraps her in his arms and pulls her into a sloppy sweet kiss. She tastes herself on his lips and it surprises her how much that turns her on again, so soon after such an earth-shattering orgasm.


	12. FIRSTS

The rumor of her relationship with Four is publicly confirmed a couple days later, the day they announce new member jobs.

It has been a week since she officially became a member, and since Tris was ranked first she gets first pick of jobs. She applied for her top three choices: seasonal initiation trainer, leader (in training), and ambassador to Abnegation (in training). If they don’t approve her top three choices she’d probably find herself stuck on the fence until the next job opened up.

Today she is sitting nervously in the mess hall at dinner, waiting to find out. Four is sitting beside her, all but pretending not to comfort her, his hand lovingly stroking her leg under the table. She is a jittery mess.

A man she’d seen but never met before—Harrison, she thinks, another Dauntless leader—slides up next to her and hands her a letter. “Congratulations Prior, you start leadership training tomorrow morning.” He pats her a little too hard on the back and slips away just as fast as he came.

“Leadership?” Tris is in shock.

“You did it!” Four cheers next to her, scooping her up in his arms. Even though he’d turned down leadership himself, he knew that this was the perfect job for Tris. She is a natural leader.

“I did it!” she finally realizes, grabbing his face and pulling him in for a celebratory kiss.

They pull apart suddenly when they hear the gasps trickle around them.

“I KNEW it!” Uriah points to Four and Tris, still wrapped in an embrace.

“Shut up, Uriah, you didn’t know shit,” Zeke rolls his eyes.

“So..? What is this then?”

Tris and Four share a look and Tris just shrugs. It doesn’t matter though, the entire faction knows about that kiss by the end of the day. Rumors abound. Did Tris sleep with her trainer to pass initiation? Is she sleeping her way to the top? Whispers wind through the halls.

Tris is too happy to care what anyone has to say though. She’s got two men who finally stopped punching each other and who both love her, and now she’s a goddamn Dauntless leader. In training.

Suddenly she wants nothing more than to keep kissing Four. It’s like she could feel his love and support and pride all through his lips. She’s full of adrenaline and probably hormones, but the tiny bit of modesty she has left tells her to not give Uriah any more ammo.

She tugs on Four’s arm and shoots him a tiny smile. “Let’s go celebrate,” she says, her voice practically winking.

He smiles and lets Tris lead him out. They slip through the busy mess hall and around the tunnels to her apartment. She manages to lead him by the hand all the way into her bedroom before he halts in the doorway.

She turns around and sees him staring at her, eyes consuming her and setting her ablaze. She feels heat rise beneath her skin and decides she needs to take her clothes off. Right now. They’ve been taking it slow, so so slow, but the urge is too much to worry about the leap forward. She’s done stopping herself. She’s ready to burn.

Still locked in his gaze, she slides her tank up and over her head, discarding it on the floor. His eyes widen and his breath hitches but he doesn’t move. She slides her pants down her legs and steps out of them, tossing them aside as well.

Four looks like he might pass out from how tightly he is wound.

Tris takes a step towards him, and plants her palms on the edges of his shirt. She slides her palms under his shirt and lets the fabric drag up his toned stomach and across his smooth, hard chest and over his head. When she pulls it off though, she sees the look in his eyes has changed. He no longer looks at her like he is hungry, like she is the only thing that will satiate him. Now, he looks worried.

“Tris, what are you..?” his voice is low, cracked.

“I want to celebrate..with you.”

“By taking my clothes off?” he tries to sound teasing but it comes out fearful.

“Well I had hoped you would participate a little,” she quips back.

“Tris, I just want..this is a big deal, as an Abnegation transfer, and..” He’s not very good with his words but his eyes give her all she needs to know.

“And I'm ready to make that choice with you. I know exactly how big a deal this is, Tobias.”

At the sound of his name, he shivers, the hunger creeping back into his eyes. She reaches for the button on his pants, but he presses himself to her, blocking her hand, and kisses her.

His kiss is soft but insistent, and she is happy to let him lead for a bit. He crowds her back to the bed. When her knees hit the back, he wraps one arm around her and gently lowers her down onto the mattress, himself on top of her.

Their kisses grow passionate, and Tris maneuvers her legs to split around Four’s hips, so she can wrap her knees around him. She can feel his growing bulge pressing against her underwear, and wants nothing more than to be skin to skin with him.

She snakes one hand down his back and to his waistband, curving it around his torso until the tips of her fingers are teasing the top of his pubic hair. He moans and grinds into her.

Encouraged, she shoves her hand deeper into his pants, sandwiched between their bodies. When her tiny fingers reach the base of his cock he startles and pulls away from their kiss.

She eases her hand back and tries to gauge his reaction. “Too much?”

“No, I-I liked it, I just don’t want to push you too far.”

“Too far? I want this. All of it. Any of it. With you.”

“I can’t control myself when I'm with you.”

“You seem to be controlling yourself just fine right now,” she regrets the bitterness in her tone as soon as she says it. In a gentler tone, she adds, “I trust you.”

“I could hurt you.”

“Tobias, look at me, I'm not afraid of this.”

“But I AM. I'm afraid of hurting you,” he snaps back, weary and frustrated.

“I've been in your fear landscape, Tobias, and this is not one of your fears,” she says sternly.

“It is now..” he mumbles, rolling off of her to the space beside her.

“You have a new fear?”

“No, just a different fear. Instead of hurting an innocent, now I have to hurt you. I haven’t been able to pass the sim since it appeared.” He sounds defeated. “I'm sorry, I should have told you.”

“Yea, you should have. Because I'm pretty sure I can help you solve this one. Look me in the eyes, Tobias.” he does. “You will never hurt me. This-“ she gestures to the space between their bodies, “whenever it happens—and I'm not saying it needs to be now or even soon—but this will not hurt. It will feel good. It will feel amazing. And I know this, because I know you. Ok?”

A smile creeps across his lips and his face is both devastatingly sad and heartbreakingly hopeful. He nods and leans forward to kiss her, a small, chaste kiss. He curls into her side, and lets her wrap around his back, pulling her arms around him like he’s giving her a piggy back ride.

She holds him, this strong, brave, entirely too protective man. She tries to send him all her love as if through osmosis, but then remembers there’s an entirely easier method. “I love you, Tobias.”

“I love you, Tris,” his voice is low and content.

They lay there a while and start to drift off, before Tris pipes up softly, “I've never let anyone sleep in my bed before. You are my first.” He can feel her smile against his back.

“You were mine too.” He pulls her tighter around him, and they settle in to sleep.


	13. TRIS PRIOR, LEADER IN TRAINING

The next morning Tris reports for leadership training orientation. Basically it’s just Veronica handing her dozens of forms and giving her the key to an office. Her office looks like it’s actually filing cabinet storage, with stacks of reports and rolls of papers on every surface.

No one said Dauntless were organized.

Ronny, as she is now supposed to refer to Veronica, is two offices down, and would be happy to field any questions Tris might have. Tris doesn’t really believe this, given how quickly Ronny returns to her office and slams the door.

But Tris has plenty to sort through in the orientation materials, so she’s fine with some alone time.

A couple hours and one ridiculous headache later, Tris decides she needs caffeine and maybe a break from reading manuals. She wanders out into the office hallway and peaks in both directions. Directly across the hall from her office is Eric’s office, but he has been in a meeting all morning. She wanders to the right hoping to find the kitchen, and instead runs smack into a brick wall.

“Shit!” she exclaims, but then the brick wall laughs at her and she looks up and sees it’s Eric. “Sorry, I'm basically blind from reading reports all morning.”

“Ronny already finished your orientation?”

“Absolutely. If by orientation you mean handing me a thousand pages worth of training manuals and reports,” she drips sarcasm.

“Well I'm done with my meetings for the day. If you’d like, I could do your orientation,” he offers.

“It beats reports, I guess,” Tris agrees.

“I'm flattered,” he replies dryly.

Tris shows Eric into her office. “Welcome to the office of Tris Prior, future Dauntless leader,” she announces proudly, despite her surroundings.

“It’s a lot bigger than my first office. And you have a real chair!” Eric collapses down into her desk chair. “This might actually be better than my chair,” he says, bouncing and turning in the chair for effect.

“Well too bad, because it’s my chair. Property of Tris Prior,” she gestures for him to get up.

“Seems like I'm the one sitting in it,” he defies her. She narrows her eyes at him and then climbs onto his lap, straddling his thighs.

“Now I'm sitting on you. Does that mean I own you?”

“Oh Tris, don’t you know you’ve owned me since the day we met?” he croons sweetly, even though his eyes are full of mischief.

“Then give me back my chair,” she orders, one hand gripping his hair forcefully.

“Now, now Tris, the whole office can see you.” He gestures to the open office door.

She slides off of his lap, swishes over to the door, shuts it, and turns the lock. He licks his lips.

Tris walks back over to Eric, still sitting firmly in her chair. She turns the chair, and thus him, towards the open space behind her desk, and drops to her knees in front of him.

Eric is already pretty hard, but the sight of her on her knees in front of him, staring up at him, that just sends all the blood from his head right to his cock.

By the time she opens his pants and unzips the fly, he is throbbing. He lifts himself up enough for her to pull his pants down, trunks and all, but they get stuck on his shoes and she pulls off his shoes and throws them aside.

Tris slides her hands up his muscular thighs towards the junction, Eric gripping the arm rests of the chair tighter the higher she gets. When her fingers trail through his downy blonde pubic hair, the chair groans from his tension.

She laughs and takes him fully into her hand. Her hand is small, and his cock is huge, particularly the girth, so her hand doesn’t quiet go all the way around. She strokes her hand slowly up and down the shaft until Eric lets go of a tiny whimper. Then she leans down, sticks out her tongue, and licks his cock from base to tip. He moans loudly.

“Shh, the whole office will hear!” she teases, her breath tickling the head of his dick.

“If you don’t want me to make noise, then you need to stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” she asks innocently, and licks him again from base to tip, this time swirling her tongue around the head.

“Oh god, yes that!” he groans.

Tris bobs her head back down, this time taking the tip of his cock into her mouth, and giving it a little suck. Eric practically leaps from the chair, crashing back down with a resounding clammer.

Tris is all but coming herself from how powerful and sexy she feels doing this, so she dives in and takes him as deep as she can, swallowing when she thinks she might gag and then pulling her head back off. One of his hands shoots up to her hair, and he holds it hovering above her head. She takes her hand, and threads his hovering hand through her hair, gripping tightly. She lets go and his hand remains, anchoring her head.

She continues her bobbing, taking him deeper as she goes, though she still hasn’t quite taken even half of him.

Eric’s hips pump up into her in tiny controlled bursts, and she can tell that he is holding back both his hips and the hand that holds her head.

She explores the possibilities of his cock for a few minutes. Licking up the shaft, swirling her tongue on the tip, tugging, sucking, playing. At one point her hand ventures to massage his balls and he tenses, earning her a long, low moan. She continues those explorations, earning her several more strangled moans.

Tris is sucking the head of Eric’s cock with wild abandon, playing with his balls at the same time, when he pulls her off by her hair. “Tris, please, I want to be inside you,” he begs.

“Yes!” she practically screams, her faced wrecked with slobber and red from effort.

He lifts her up from her knees, and stands with her, naked from the waist down. He grabs her face in both hands and pulls her in for a wet kiss.

“Fuck I love you!” he growls into her mouth, picking her up easily and plopping her back down on her desk. He removes her shirt with practiced precision, while she struggles with his buttons sloppily. He shrugs the shirt off his shoulders and wraps a hand around her back to unclasp her bra.

Her pants and underwear come off quickly, and when they are completely naked, he stands in front of her just staring. He does this a lot. She’s learned to let him, her own eyes watching his cock twitch with excitement.

When his eyes have mapped her body from head to toe, he steps towards her. He trails a hand down her cheek, letting it trickle lazily down her neck, across the soft planes of her belly and down to her core.

He flattens his other palm across her chest between her breasts and presses her back, flat onto the desk.

His finger teases between her folds before circling the rim of her entrance and plunging inside. Tris releases a sharp gasp, and Eric leans forward to capture it in his mouth, sucking on her bottom lip before releasing her.

His finger continues its slow plunging, but he moves his head down to her chest, kissing the underside of her small breasts and nuzzling her firm nipples with his nose, before sucking one between his teeth. He scrapes his teeth across her nipple and nibbles lightly across her breast to the other nipple, which he flicks eagerly with his tongue.

Sometime during his tantalizing ministrations on her nipples, he slides another finger inside her, and she opens for him easily. The two fingers curl upwards, finding a surprising bundle of nerves inside her, and striking it with exacting precision. Eric continues pumping inside her until her hips start to buck in his hand. He moves his other hand down to steady her hips, and starts kissing down her stomach towards her center.

Just above her clit, Eric sucks in a deep breath, groaning into her before sucking her clit into his mouth. The combination of the sensations on her bundle of nerves and inside her sends her spiraling upwards in pleasure faster than she is ready. Her orgasm surprises them both as her inner walls clench around Eric’s fingers and her thighs around his ears, holding his mouth in place as she quakes with the waves of pleasure.

He pumps into her through her orgasm, only releasing her when her back falls heavily back on the desk and she is limp.

He strokes her legs gently as she breathes, waiting for her to come down from her high, when she practically commands him, “Wwell what the hell are you waiting for, Eric, fuck me!”

He grins at her and moves to line himself up between her thighs, as he stands beside the desk. He hovers over her, swiping his cock up and down her slit, wetting himself with her juices.

As the tip of Eric’s cock presses against her entrance, Tris presses her hand to his chest pausing him there, and whispers, “It’s my first time, so just, go slow, ok?”

“Wait, your first?” It takes Eric a second to refocus his mind. “I thought you and Four..?” His brows pinch as he waits for her to respond.

“No, we haven’t,” she responds quickly, then bites her lip and adds, “Would it matter if we had?”

“Tris, I don’t care if I'm your first or your fiftieth…but if you want to wait until you and he can—”

“Four and I aren’t intimate in that way.” At the confused look Eric gives, Tris continues. “He’s..scared of hurting me,” she finally confesses.

Eric pauses for a moment, his brow furrowed.

“If you want it to be him, we don’t have to do this, we can do something else,” Eric offers, steely eyes searching hers.

“No!” Tris replies too fast, “No, I mean, I want this, and it has nothing to do with Four,” she explains. “I want to experience this with you.” Eric smiles.

“Here? in this dingy office?” he teases.

Tris bops him. “Hey this is my dingy office. And this office, to me, represents how powerful I feel right now. I can’t think of a better place.”

He grins at her, but doesn’t move. He holds himself above her, his cock teasing her entrance, just thinking.

“He’s right, you know. It might hurt you,” he sighs.

“You think I'm afraid of a little pain?” she challenges him, for once she doesn’t feel the least twinge of fear.

“Not at all,” he kisses her on the nose and slips the head of his cock into her.

That little movement garners a tiny “oh” from Tris, followed by a quick nod. Eric pushes himself slowly deeper, and Tris feels the burn of her core stretching to make room for him. It hurts, they were right, but it also feels weirdly good.

She hooks a leg around his hip and pulls him deeper, and he follows her lead, pressing slowly until she feels a shift, like he passed a wall, and then he’s inside her to the hilt.

He holds inside her, sheathed in her warm wetness, just looking at her. Her head is thrown back, hair wild, face still glistening from her blowjob. She’s like an angel, he thinks.

“Tris? How do you feel?”

“Full,” she rasps. He chuckles, and slides himself out about halfway, earning a breathy moan from Tris. He rocks his hips in and out in long, slow drags.

Soon the pleasure of his pumps overtakes the pain of the stretch and Tris starts to press her hips up into him, meeting his motions and deepening the contact.

A whine builds in her throat and she bucks Eric harder, and he responds in kind. His thrusts grow deeper, harder, until he is pounding into her, her whole body moving under him.

“Harder,” she demands and he obeys, humping into her with such force that the whole desk starts to scoot. She grips him by the hair and pulls his face down to hers, hissing into his ear between pumps “Fuck. Me. Harder. Eric!”

He picks her up off the desk with little effort, and she wraps her legs tightly around his hips, keeping them connected. He grips her firmly by the hips and lifts her all the way up his cock until just the head stays in her entrance, and then slams her back down to the hilt. She cries out and throws her head back. He repeats the motion and she digsher nails into his neck. He starts fucking her fast, sliding her up and down on his shaft hard, pressing inky bruises into her hipbones where he holds her. Her moans start sounding like sobs as he fucks into her and suddenly her legs are flailing out on either side of him, as she cries out his name over and over like a desperate prayer.

He answers her prayer and provides a few intensely hard thrusts before the walls start to flutter around his cock and her juices drip down and her organs spasm through her like an explosion.

The shockwaves of her orgasm send him plummeting off the edge moments later, and at the last moment he leans forward, taking the juncture of her neck and shoulder in his mouth and pressing his teeth firmly into her skin as he comes. He holds his bite on her through those last powerful thrusts, and from the pain of his teeth mixes with the pleasure of her orgasm and Tris very nearly blacks out.

Instead they both collapse on the floor behind her desk panting, her sprawled across his sweat-slicked chest.

“Was this part of orientation?” she jokes, her body completely sated and her heart happy and full.

“Oh absolutely. We had to christen your office.”


	14. DAUNTLESS BALL

Later that week Four gets called into a meeting in the leadership conference room. He is irritated to have his schedule interrupted for what could surely be done in an email, but he grumbles and makes his way up from the Control Room.

He gets to the conference room and is suddenly even more irritated, seeing the only person inside the room is Eric. What the hell does he want?

“Come in, Four. Have a seat,” Eric is practically chipper.

Four hesitates and eyes him warily but sits. Across the table, instead of at the chair next to Eric where he was directed. Eric does not acknowledge this slight.

“Thank you for coming, I—“

“What do you want, Eric? You know I have been busy with the backlog from initiation,” Four complains.

“I wanted to talk to you about Tris,” Eric announces calmly.

“What? No. Is this why you called me here?” Four starts to stand.

“She loves you.”

Eric’s words stop Four in his tracks. “I know that.”

“But she wants more from you.”  
“What the hell are you talking about? What did she—“ Four’s eyes fill with panic.

“Relax, Four. I want to help you,” Eric soothes Four back into his chair.

“…Why?” Four is skeptical.

“I want her to be happy,” Eric admits with a soft sincerity. Then, after a moment, adds, “And the kitchen’s out of chocolate muffins.”

Somehow the weeks have faded into fall and one big event is fast approaching: the Dauntless Ball.

Christina has been scouring the shops for weeks for the perfect ensemble, despite Tris reminding her repeatedly that one of the main aspects of the Dauntless Ball is that it takes place in pitch darkness. In true Dauntless fashion, their biggest party of the year is also filled with some of the most risky events: the Pit will be void entirely of light. Inside, there will be drinking, dancing, blind obstacle courses, games, and probably a lot of sex.

That said, no one would see her outfit, so why not wear something easier to move in?Christina argued that if no one could see her outfit, why not go wild? She had a point, so Tris compromised and got a comfy crop top, and some slinky shorts.

Shauna suggested they each get something light up too—some people wear flashing jewelry, others light up shoes, some with glowing makeup. Some people are lazy and just bring a torch or some matches. Tris settles on a glowing choker and Christina picks out several light up bangles.

They have their entire ensembles decided days before the dance. Christina is a little eager.

Two days before the dance Tris gets a knock on her office door. She always leaves the door open, because Eric’s office is across the hall and they make faces at each other all day. She doesn’t know why someone would need to knock, but she looks up and immediately her face lights up in a blinding smile, as Four stands in the doorway smiling back.

“Come in, come in!” He’s hasn’t visited her at work yet, and she’s a little proud of herself and excited to show off.

“So this is what it’s like in leadership,” his voice sounds awed as he steps in and peers around at the tight and cluttered space. A couple cabinets have been made into a desk, where she now sits and beckons him over.

Since he left the door open, Eric watches the encounter from across the hall, eyes peering over his computer curiously.

Four moves to her desk and sits down opposite her on another cabinet.

“Well what can this leader in training do for you, Four?” Tris teases.

“I was actually rather hoping I could take you to the Dauntless Ball.” He looks up at her, eyes full of hope.

“Oh. I mean yes! Of course!”

She leaps up from her chair and hugs him across her make-shift desk.

“Did she say yes?” Eric booms from across the hall.

“Affirmative, Coulter,” Four replies, then plants a kiss on Tris’ lips. “She’s all yours.” He releases her and gets up to leave her office as Eric crosses the hall to walk in. As the two men pass each other they share a look, something Tris can’t read.

“What does that mean?” Tris is so confused, just standing over her desk where a moment ago she was hugging Four.

“Tris, I would like to ask if you would go to the Ball with me.” Eric states formally.

“What is this? Are you two conspiring against me or something?”

“Always so suspicious,” Eric teases. “But yes. We know it’s your first Ball and we want it to be amazing.”

She narrows her eyes at him, trying to gauge his thoughts, but his face is plastered with an implacable smirk, his resting asshole face. It’s an annoying face. She’d very much like to sit on it.

“Ok, yes. I'm in. Whatever you two have planned better not get me killed. Or kicked out of Dauntless.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, One.” Eric winks, licking his lips. He saunters back over to his office and resumes his work. Tris is left still standing in that same spot, panties now slightly damp, and also still very confused.

The night of the dance, two men knock at Tris’ door. One, a bulky blonde wearing something that looks like biking shorts and nothing else, his torso and arms painted in swirling patterns of glowing paint. The other, a sleek brunette in a tight black tee and black leather pants with some sort of LED string stitched in geometric lines.

Tris’ jaw drops and she just stands there in the doorway admiring the view, completely forgetting that she is wearing the skimpiest outfit of all time because she forgot they would be able to see it before they got to the pitch dark safety of the Ball. As her eyes take them in, they do the same. Hell, anyone who walked by would probably stop to stare at these three.

After an audible gulp, Four speaks first, “You look incredible Tris!”

“So do you!” she blurts out. “God you are both so, just, wow.” She’s blushing furiously and they are both smiling at her in their own unique ways.

“Come on then, you ready?” Eric teases.

“Hell yes,” she says confidently, closing the door behind her and joining them on the path down to the Pit.

Tris walks between the two of them. For a moment she is unsure whether she should take their hands or how this is going to work, but then each reaches out and takes one of her hands, Four threading his fingers through her right hand and Eric pulling her left arm around his waist, placing his across her shoulders.

This is good. This is amazing. This feels perfect and indescribable and she doesn’t even care if they make it to the Ball, if they can just keep wander around like this. She loves having both their hands on her. She feels grounded but alive, safe but dangerous, both home and free.

They do make it to the Ball eventually. She knows they’ve arrived well before she hears the music because all the lights in the tunnels around the Pit are out. The Pit itself is thumping with noise: music, yelling, fighting, fucking, she has no idea.

She clings tighter to the men on either side of her, knowing that if they get separated tonight, they might not find each other again.

Eric leads them towards what looks like a sparkler suspended in mid-air, and when they get there, Tris can smell the liquor burning the inside of her nose. Somehow, who knows how, Eric presses a cup into her chest and she takes it. She swallows the contents without bothering to ask and taps the empty cup on his arm. “Thank you.”

“Another?” Eric asks, and Tris feels Four drinking his drink next to her.

“One more please, then I think I'm good,” Tris chirps cheerfully. She has still not got quite got the hang of drinking. Four can drink a ton, but Eric usually tries to limit himself these days. Since Amar. He’s not drinking at all tonight from what she can tell.

She downs her second drink, spilling a little on her cheek and giggling, the buzz already starting to push through her body.

“I spilled it! It’s all over me!” she complains to no one in particular.

“Oh no,” Eric sounds mock sympathetic. “Better let Four get that for you. We don’t want to waste it.”

She can’t see his face, but she is betting all her points that Eric is wearing a wicked devilish smile. She rotates slightly to the side where Four is pressed against her, and repeats her request.

“Four, I spilled my drink, think you can clean me up?”

He very nearly growls, and lunges his face onto her, his forehead clunking loudly against her chin as he misaims. She laughs as she readjusts him, gripping him by the hair to twist his head so that his mouth is on her clavicle.

He licks up the spilled liquor from her skin, “searching” for more across her upper chest and up her neck to her jaw, where he nibbles. He leaves wet kisses along her cheeks until his lips finally sink into hers, before he pulls back. “How’d I do? All clean?”

“No, but it’ll do for now,” she teases. “So what’s next?”  
“Battle Darts.” Eric says firmly. Tris doesn’t bother asking, because Eric is already pulling them like a chain through the darkness, through a crowd, and towards another cluster of voices and sounds. Sounds like knives. Tris is a little worried. Knife throwing in the dark? Doesn’t exactly sound like the best plan.

When they get to wherever they are (she doesn’t know because she can barely see anything) Eric explains the game. It’s like battleship, but with knives. Each player sticks up some balloons to one of the target boards, and they each grab five knives. They throw the knives at the other player’s target, trying to pop as many balloons as possible. Sometimes they play for points, sometimes for drinks, sometimes for more dares. Oh and of course it’s done in near complete darkness.

Eric and Four agree to play against one another, and Four beats Eric handily, but to everyone’s surprise Eric doesn’t complain. Tris takes the winner, and despite being not quite as great a shot as Four, she manages to get every single one of his balloons to pop.

“How the hell did you…” Four mutters, impressed.

“You put them where you threw the knives at me during initiation,” she chuckles at him.

Eric snorts, “You sentimental idiot.”

There’s some light shoving around her and Tris gets jostled between them as they play fight. She grins madly and just keeps laughing until they settle. “What now? Another game?”  
“No,” Eric says firmly. “No more games. You’re going dancing.”

_Dancing_. She flinches a bit when he says that and they both notice.

“Come on, Tris, I promise I wont punch you this time,” Four whispers. Tris squeezes him and lets Eric lead them out towards the thumping music.

It’s awkward at first, finding the rhythm, knowing where to put her hands. She’s only done this once before, but she mostly tries to forget that night.

The boys seem to be doing fine though, which is almost shocking given how reticent Four normally is to touch people this much—especially in public.

Four is to her front, Eric behind her. Eric’s arm is slung low around her waist, his large hand spanning from her sternum to just above her low-sitting shorts. Her midriff is bare thanks to the crop top Christina made her buy, so she can’t focus on anything but the feeling of Eric’s rough hands pressing into her belly.

He moves her body in time with the persistent drums and guides her body in tight figure eights, each loop grinding her body against one of the men currently sandwiching her.

By the third song, she’s delirious. She’s sweating and rolling her body in ways she never learned in combat training. It feels so strange to have Four doing these motions with her, to feel his thigh between hers, his hand splayed across the flat plane beneath her clavicle.

It feels strange, but also absolutely perfect.

When the rhythm switches, Eric drops her body lower, grinding behind her at a deeper angle. She can feel his erection now through his thin trunks, and the heat of it sends shivers through her core as it presses and grinds into her rear. She mewls and lets herself do something completely rude. She grinds down on his cock. Hard. She full on tries to envelop him between her cheeks mid dance floor in the pitch black of the Ball. She is brazen and wild tonight. She knows she hasn’t had much to drink, so she blames it on the music instead, but in her heart of hearts she knows something about having both these men’s hands on her at once is making her crazy.

Eric groans but then sternly says, “let me lead,” and both Four and Tris nod, though no one can see them in the dark, neither aware that the other believes the order is meant for them.

Suddenly Eric’s pinky breaches the waistband of her shorts. Tris sighs softly and his fingers plunge lower, weaving through her soft patch of curls and down to her heated core. His middle finger slides up, parting her folds and she nearly cries out, but Four’s mouth is suddenly on hers, as if he is swallowing up the sound.

Four’s tongue invades her mouth in a way it never has before, a delicious contrast to the long teasing strokes of Eric’s finger up and down her slit.

Eric has his hand in her pants. Fuck. What is she doing? They are in public! She bites down on Four’s lip in panic and clenches her thighs around Eric’s hand. “What are you doing?” she hisses, her voice coming out breathier than she intends.

Eric pulls his hand out from her shorts, “I thought you liked it,” he groans softly, bringing his hands, dripping with her juices up to her lips.

To her surprise, Tris sticks her tongue out and licks her taste off his finger with abandon. To her greater surprise, another tongue joins hers. Four and Tris’ tongues dance across Eric’s fingers, and when he is satisfied with their work he resumes girating and grinding behind Tris, setting all three of them back into motion.

Four’s body is tenser now, tightly wound against her front. She wishes she could see his face right now. He wishes he could see hers.

Four wraps his arm around her hip, but Eric quickly captures him by the wrist. Eric pushes Four’s hands past the edge of Tris shorts before Four freezes his arm stiff.

“Tris..?”  
She nods frantically but realizes he can’t see her and moans, “Yes, yes.”

Four’s hand, led by Eric’s, dives into her underwear, cupping around her entire mound as the grinding dancing moves her against his palm.

It is almost too much to bear and Tris throws her head back, arching her body back into Eric’s, her hips forward into Four.

Eric threads his fingers through Four’s and presses their middle fingers between her folds, and she gasps. They plunge deeper into the wetness until both fingers are pressing up against her entrance.

Tris almost tries to mount them herself, but remembers Eric’s whispered command _let me lead_ and instead decides to melt into their motions, letting them do whatever it is they are doing. In the pitch black and overwhelmingly loud Dauntless Ball, Tris feels completely free.

Then a finger enters her. Just one, thick finger. She tightens her walls around it and it slides back out. She reaches out into the darkness like she can pull it back, but then it enters her again. And it does this wicked dance with her for several slow, punishing strokes, until Tris feels Eric release Four’s hand, sliding back out of her pants and up to her bare stomach.

Four’s finger inside her continues its same long hooking strokes, but now moving a bit faster.

Eric’s palms both stretch across her stomach and press their way up under her flowing crop top. There they find the dirtiest truth of all, Tris hasn’t worn a bra. Her chest is fairly small and very pert, so she hadn’t felt the need to suffer through wearing a sweaty pokey bra to a party, especially since no one would see her.

“You’re bad,” Eric whispers in her ear, biting the lobe, when he discovers her bare chest. His hands slide across her skin, fingers seeking out her small, tight nipples. He pinches and tugs at them both, earning a whimper from Tris.

“Another,” she pleads as quietly as she can in her state.

“Another?” Four questions.

“Give the woman another!” Eric commands and on the next stroke Four plunges a second finger inside her sopping hole. Her thighs shake and Eric steadies her, his hands kneading her breasts as he kisses and nibbles at the soft spot behind her ear.

Four’s strokes get a little faster, but she still wants more, more and she rocks her hips into him hard.

Four pulls out abruptly, snatching his hand out of her pants and she howls.

“What the hell, Four?” she demands.  
“I didn’t-I don’t want to hurt you,” he huffs.

“You’re not going to hurt her, you idiot,” Eric snarls from behind her.

“I want this Four, I want you to do this,” Tris says in a much kinder tone.

This time Tris reaches out to take Four by the wrist. Giving him time to pull back, she slowly slides his hand back down into her pants and places it over her core. She takes her other hand and places it around the back of his neck and pulls his face close to hers.

“I want to show you. You can’t hurt me.” She kisses his lips and then presses two of his fingers inside her. She holds his hand in place and starts rocking her hips on his hand, riding his fingers while he holds himself stationary, stiff as a stiff.

“Another,” she pants, and when he doesn’t immediately comply, “Please, Four, another!”

On the next stroke a third finger slides inside and she stretches around it, her body enveloping his fingers in warm velvet. He is overwhelmed by the sensation and finds himself grinding back into her, meeting her stroke for stroke.

Soon he is finger fucking her hard and fast and she is bouncing on his fingers, her weight offset by Eric holding her up behind her, their bodies tangling and twisting to the music as pleasure courses through her.

Tris’ body tenses suddenly and Four feels the muscles contract around his fingers. Eric recognizes the way her thighs squeeze around Four’s hand. He hooks a finger through her choker, that silly light up collar Shauna had her get, and pulls her by the neck towards him.

“Come for Four, Tris, come for him,” Eric growls into her ear, holding her tightly by the choker, his other hand gripping bruises into her left breast.

Four’s fingers plunge at just the right angle and she brakes in half around his hand. Her body tremors around his fingers, and as her orgasm overtakes her he is in awe of how powerful this body is. It welcomed him inside and made room for him. It moved and clenched around him and told him exactly what he needed to do to please it.

Four is still in awe when he feels two tongues lapping the juices off of his soaked fingers.

They drink and dance and play dangerous games and huddle close to one another in the dark until the sun peaks through the Spire above them and signals the end of the Ball.

In the wee hours of the morning, two gentlemen bring Tris back to her door, each offers her a quick goodnight kiss, and then leaves. She collapses in her bed a little while later, after scrubbing off all the juice and paint and sweat and so on. As she lays there contemplating her night, she can actually feel her love for these men deepening.

It was a brave thing Eric did, offering to help Four past a hurdle with her. She knows that’s what he is doing, even though he would never admit to it. Part of her wonders if it’s because he wants her to be happy, fulfilled, or if he actually got off on the experience. An interesting question.

She wonders if she comes up with those kinds of motivations to alleviate some of that residual Abnegation guilt she feels. Some people around here can’t find anyone to love and she has stolen away two of the greatest men to ever live? It doesn’t seem fair, and somewhere in her mind is a voice still screaming that it’s selfish.

But then she remembers their faces at the end of the night. She couldn’t see them at all the entire time they were at the Ball, so it’s hard to gauge what they were feeling. But when they dropped her off at her apartment, she could see them clear as day.

Four, wide-eyed, open, and adoring. Eric, happy, and maybe a bit smugly satisfied.

If they are happy too, this can’t be selfish of her, can it?

She realizes that neither one of these men has tried to hookup with anyone else since they met. Is she being selfish by having them both when they only seem to want her? She isn’t trying to keep them from also exploring other options at all—she would never ask them to do that. But it seems that’s what they’ve both chosen.

She doesn’t know what to make of this. She decides she wants to see if they are really happy, wants to see if in her blissed out mind tonight she fabricated that whole thing. If they are happy, then she is happy.

And they are happy. For about a day.


	15. VALUES

Two days after the Ball, and only a few hours after Tris finally pushed her guilt out of her mind long enough to get started on her Leadership Training manual, there’s a knock at her door. Four has been here a couple times now, and Tris recognizes the pattern in his knock immediately.

She bounces up cheerfully and throws the door open, grinning already at the man across her threshold.

But the man there isn’t smiling back.

His clear blue eyes betray something darker, something aching in their depths.

“May I come in?” Four asks, too formally and too cold.

“Of course!” Tris tries to maintain her demeanor, but already the paranoia is seeping in.

He shuffles into the room past her, and stands awkwardly.

The air seems to disappear from the room and Tris hesitates before almost-casually offering him a seat on her couch. It’s one of the only pieces of furniture she owns so far, and it came with the apartment. Even though it’s small, somehow the space between Tris and Four when they sit is as wide and empty as the Waste once called Lake Michigan.

After a few moments, Tris starts, “I was just working on my—“ she thinks she is going to talk about her new job, her training, maybe break the ice, but already he interrupts.

“Did you sleep with him?”

“What?” She heard him, but she can’t quite process.

“Eric. I need to know if you slept with Eric.” He doesn’t make eye contact. His voice is curt, terse.

“Tobias, I—“

“You did, didn’t you? I knew you wanted more, but did you have to fuck him? Could you not wait for me one second longer that you needed to get off with him instead?” His words come tumbling out now and he’s up off the couch, pacing the living room rapidly.

“Tobias.” Tris tries to stop him in his rant.

“You know he fucked half our initiate class? Sex means nothing to him, nothing!”

“Tobias!”

“I thought you and I shared the same values, I thought you felt—but no, you just go throw yourself at any—“

She can’t stand to yell his real name at him, it still feels too tender on her lips, so she screams his nickname instead. “FOUR!” Her shout bursts from her chest as she stands to face him, wrestling with a hundred emotions at once, all visible on her face.

“YES! Ok? Yes. I fucked Eric. Is that what you want to hear? That we had sex? You’re right about that. And I know who he’s fucked and what he thinks about sex, and you’re wrong about a whole lot of that but that’s not what pisses me off the most.” She doesn’t know where the strength in her voice comes from, but she feels so powerful standing her ground, and she won’t let anyone—even a man she loves—taint what feels so pure and good to her.

“Tris?” Four’s mouth opens to continue its onslaught, but a harsh gesture from Tris and he holds.

“No. You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to tell me my values are different just because I had sex with him before you. I tried to have sex with you first, actually. And it wasn’t that I couldn’t wait for you—I’m still here aren’t I? I’m still waiting for you. And I will wait for you as long as it takes, even if we never have sex, but if you come in here and yell at me like that again—“

“Tris, oh fuck Tris I’m sorry, I just…” he wipes his face in his hands and sits back down. Tris is still fuming and holding back tears, so she stays standing firm a few feet away.

“What? What is it that you think? What is it that made you come in here and say all those things to me?”

“I just wanted our first time to be…”

“What? Together?” Tris tries not to scoff.

He hesitates, considers this. “Special.”

“It still can be,” she replies gently, joining him on the sofa. “Everything I do with you is special.”

“But your first time—“

“Was special too.”

There’s a long pause.

“Oh,” Four offers, cogently. It seems to sink in a bit. “Because you love him.” Tris nods. “And he loves you.” She nods again. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yea, you are. And I love you.”

It takes them a while, but that night they talk through more explicitly how they feel about sex, and establish some better guidelines so they don’t have another incident like this one. This whole relationship is unprecedented for both of them, but they promise to communicate more and trust more.


	16. I WANT TO TAKE CARE OF YOU

A few days later they both sit at her table, Four next to her with his arm slung low around her waist, and Eric across the table, occasionally teasing her ankle with his foot. Her breath catches every time he does it, but even though Four doesn’t look up from the reports he’s reading, his fingers dig slightly deeper into the flesh on her hipbone. She is in absolute heaven. And it seems, she thinks, they are too.

The boys have come to an understanding, Tris thinks. She sees their behavior and a little part of her thinks she had some hand in making these two overgrown toddlers grow up a little bit. Now that they’ve let it go, it has become so obvious that their entire hatred of one another was built on misunderstanding and pride. Without those standing in the way, these two might even be friends someday. Tris knows this is a fantasy, but it’s a good enough fantasy to make her feel a little damp between her legs. Well that’s an interesting development.

Over the next couple weeks, Tris throws herself into her Leadership training. She works long hours, and barely has time to see either of her boys. She tries to have dinner in the mess hall with Four most nights, since the rest of Dauntless already sees them as an item, and she gets to see Eric at work during the day. But it’s not enough, and she misses them.

At the end of the month she has her first leadership exam—a test of her knowledge of Dauntless law, policy, and procedure. It’s dry and exhausting studying, and Eric teases her constantly that her Erudite aptitude should be helping her more than it is. She’s always hated memorization.

One Friday night she comes home to her apartment late, drained, and frustrated. Her test is on Monday, and she just wants to spend this weekend relaxing. No more cramming or her brain will literally explode.

At her apartment door, Tris smells something delicious. She keys in the lock combination on the keypad and sneaks into her own kitchen to find Four surrounded by dishes.

“Tris!” he smiles widely, pulling her into a bear hug.

“What’s all this?” She brings her hands up to her face, hiding the elation and joy.

“Eric said you had a tough week, and I missed you in the mess tonight, so I thought I’d cook you some dinner.”

“Oh Toby, you are amazing, this smells fantastic!” She wraps her arms around him and kisses all over his cheeks until he is as red as the pasta sauce on the stove.

After dinner—something delicious that Tris has never had that he called “Chicken Parmesan”—Tris and Four settle onto the sofa in their usual cuddle position. Four, for all his bravado, loves to be the little spoon.

Wrapped around him, Tris feels the warm food and lovely company soothe her exhausted bones. She feels her stress melt away, and her body give in to other sensations instead.

Tris’ hands roam Four’s torso, winding around his narrow waist and inching towards the top of his briefs. She feels his ab muscles clench and unclench, but she can tell her simple touches have an affect on him.

Suddenly she is overcome with desire, and she pulls herself up off the couch and sinks onto her knees before him.

He looks down at her with equal parts hunger and fear, but doesn’t say anything, so she slides her fingers across his waistband until she unbuttons his pants, slowly sliding the zipper down.

Four’s hand’s jump to Tris’ own, holding them in place.

“Tris, what are you…” his voice trails off and his eyes are wide, pupils blown out.

“You’ve taken such good care of me tonight, and I want to take care of you now,” she provides, hoping her words will be enough to convince him that she knows exactly what she’s doing.

She’s only done this a couple times with Eric, and always they end up having sex instead of finishing, but she’s fairly confident that she is good enough to get the job done.

He doesn’t say anything, only looks a little dumbstruck, so she proceeds pulling his pants down his hips until they gather around his ankles. And he lets her. This has to be a good sign, right?

But just as quickly as she reaches back up to tug at his boxer briefs, his hands shoot back up to stop her.

“Tris, you don’t have to—“

“I know I don’t have to.” She doesn’t let go of his briefs, but doesn’t make to pull them down yet either.

“It just feels so…” one of his hands comes up to stroke her cheek. Her mind finishes his sentence a million ways for him before he finally offers, “ _selfish_ , of me to let you do this.”

A small giggle burbles in Tris’ throat but she stifles it so as not to hurt his feelings. “It’s not selfish if I want this. And I do. I want this,” and to emphasize her point, she grips his seriously hard dick through the thin cotton boxers.

Four’s breath hitches and eyes flutter closed for just a second, but then he relaxes his hands on his thighs.

Taking this as a good sign, Tris reaches back up to grasp his waistband once more, waiting for his eyes to reopen and make contact with hers.

“I need you to say it, Toby. Tell me you want me to do this.”

“I—“ he looks conflicted, but she just waits. “I want you.”

Close enough, she thinks, and she pulls down his briefs. A thick, hard cock springs up when it is released from its fabric prison, and it nearly bops Tris on the nose. She doesn’t mind one bit, and wastes no time before gripping it in her palm, examining it, and starting to pump the way she’s learned.

His eyes roll back in his head, and as soon as they are closed, Tris takes the opportunity to lower her mouth on the head and give it one good suck. Just for kicks.

His eyes fly open and she smiles innocently up at him from her perch on the floor.

“What, you don’t like that?” she teases.

“No, I—“ he starts, but he is cut off but a wrecked moan—his own moan—ripping through his body as she bobs her head back down to take more of his cock into her throat.

She sucks and pumps him for a few moments before stopping and looking back up at him again. “You what?” she feigns ignorance, pretends she doesn’t know what kind of effect she is having on him as she slowly, laboriously, pumps him.

She plays this game with him for several minutes: she sucks and pumps furiously, then stops sucking and slowly strokes him, teasingly softly, while she asks him to answer her questions. “You don’t like this?” she asks, while a whine oozes from his lips. “You want me to stop?” she questions, as his hips unconsciously buck into her hand.

It takes him a while to figure out her game.

No sooner than he realizes she’s messing with him does he figure out she’s done this for him—to make him more comfortable, to make him say what he likes out loud, to make him realize that he isn’t selfish for enjoying this because she is clearly having as much fun as he is.

She is incredible. He threads his fingers through her hair as he comes, desperately holding his eyes open as long as he can to soak up the image of her taking him so completely and loving every second.

That Monday Tris passes her first leadership exam with flying colors. She and Eric celebrate with a full 36 hours of fucking and lounging naked in his apartment. Early Wednesday morning, she makes her way back to her own apartment, still sated and sleepy, only to discover Four seated, dozing at her doorstep.

“Four? What are you doing here?”  
“I didn’t get to congratulate you yet,” he yawns and stretches, standing up to his full height before bending back down to envelop her in a warm hug. “Mmmm…” he snuggles into her neck, “congratulations my love. I’m really proud of you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she giggles, thinking back to their weekend. After getting his first blowjob, Four spent the weekend in Tris’ apartment playing various version of “strip studying” and rewarding her with orgasms of her own.

They still haven’t had sex yet, but Tris can tell he really wants to. She doesn’t quite know what’s holding him back, except that he says it’s more about him than it is about her.

He once said it was because he was afraid of hurting her, and she wonders if that’s actually still the truth—except instead of being afraid for her, he is afraid of himself. Of what he is capable of. Though she can’t even begin to explain how wrong he is about himself.

Tris softens into the embrace, lets him nuzzle her the way he likes. As he holds her, she gets an idea. A strange, possibly ridiculous, maybe even dangerous idea. But most of her ideas start this way, and she hasn’t died yet.

She remembers how the Dauntless Ball helped break Four past his previous stumbling blocks, and wonders if a certain scary leader might be able to help Four past this one as well…that is, if he is ready to be helped.


	17. DRUNK SPARRING

Later that month, Tris suggests Four and Eric co-lead a few sparring trainings for the Dauntless members. Most Dauntless members participate in some kind of training every day, led by various other members, so her idea is not unusual. Except that these two have never worked together on a single project without being forced.

Word spreads through Dauntless quickly, and before Tris even has a chance to officially propose her training plan, Max has already assigned her to organize and Four and Eric’s names are inked to paper.

Part of Tris is hoping to see if Eric and Four fight like they dance, and part is hoping to see how far she can push their friendship. She sees how they rub off on one another. They challenge each other, sure, but they also improve each other. And if Dauntless Ball wasn’t proof enough, she is proof that the two of them can do anything when they work together.

They agree to lead the series of trainings, much to the delight of their peers. Within an hour of the schedule of fights and trainings going up on the callboard in the messhall, Zeke is already collecting bets on which one of them would walk away with the biggest injury, thinking this would be a grudge match for the books.

For the first several sessions, Eric and Four don’t even end up sparring each other, instead partnering with others and sharing tips like two professional coaches, much to everyone’s disappointment.

The idea of their epic battle had drummed up a lot of participants in the training series, though most were already part of the friend group. Despite the lack of angry grudge matches, the workshops were still quite the success on a physical level, with participants making clear gains in their hand-to-hand combat skills.

Even so, after the fourth session in a row of cordial collaborating and a distinct lack of bloody fights, some of the trio’s friends start to get restless.

“What a waste,” Lynn complains one night, after her third session coming to see if the two idiot boys would finally fight it out. The tension between the boys had shifted from its former explosive hostility, but it had by no means dissipated. And Lynn wants to see someone get punched. “I’d so much rather be drinking right now.”

A huge grin grows on Uriah’s face and Zeke looks like he instantly understood. “Brilliant,” Zeke says.

“Right??” Uriah’s grin growing even bigger, until he is all teeth and whimsy.

“What the hell are you two telepathically talking about over there and can you let the rest of us in?” Shauna complains loudly.

“DRUNK SPARRING!” the brothers scream simultaneously.

Within minutes, the two collect several other stragglers from the training session and coax them into it as well.

A bottle or three appears from somewhere, and soon enough everyone is happily, if maybe a bit sloppily, returning to the mats.

First, the brothers who had the dumb idea to begin with offer to start the spars off. Zeke is faster on his feet, but Uriah is a wiley drunk, hopping, and spinning maniacally around like a glitching ballerina. One such spin kick lands on Zeke’s jaw, knocking him out for a good minute. When he comes to, a giddy Uriah pulls him up, hollering, “I win! I’m the new big brother! haha!” before clutching his stomach and running to puke in a trash bin.

Then a few of the others start up their own spars, some messier than others. A couple people can barely stand they are so blitzed, making it a little unfair that people like Shauna have such high tolerance. Shauna handily destroys a drunken Will, before daring Lynn to do another sibling spar. Lynn refuses, her own drunkenness leading not to the violence she had so desired earlier, and instead instilling in her an almost obsessive desire to cuddle her friend Marlene.

Tris watches Lynn and Marlene happily, wondering if there’s something there. Or if it’s just the alcohol.

Next, Tris and Christina partake in the drunk sparring with an almost nonsensically no-contact fight. They throw punches with all the might and bravado cheap tequila can afford, and no punch lands on anything but air. One such punch thrown haphazardly by Tris flies so hard and far past her opponent that her body goes with it, landing her squarely in Eric’s arms.

When she looks up, Eric has his arms wrapped around her and is giving her a lopsided smile. “Thanks ‘ric” she hiccups. He squeezes her briefly before steadying her on her feet and releasing her.

A few feet away, Uriah whispers to Zeke, “Look at that, man! Eric’s all over her!”

“You’re right, Four has to hate that shit. Maybe this will get them to fight,” he whispers back conspiratorially. He hollers to the others, “If you’re done manhandling Four’s girl there, maybe you two could show us how it’s done for once!”

Eric’s face is almost menacing as he looks over at Zeke, but from behind him Four yells, “Hell yea, two, let’s see who can really throw a punch!” He claps Eric on the back, winking drunkenly, and hops up onto the center mat.

Eric shrugs nonchalantly and follows him up.

The fight starts off fairly normally, with both squaring up in their own unique postures—Eric low and loose, Four bouncing on the balls of his feet, his arms dancing in front of his face and torso.

They circle one another for longer than they might normally, before Tris thinks to shout, “Are you two gonna braid hair or fight?” The hoots and shouts from their friends stir up renewed focus and Eric throws the first punch moments later, barely clipping Four’s jaw.

Four gets in a few good hits before Eric locks him into a hold, Four’s arm pinned between his back and Eric’s stomach. They stay in this hold for a minute, Four wriggling and writhing in Eric’s grasp.

“You give up yet, Four?” he taunts.

“Fuck you, Coulter,” Four finally yanks himself out of the hold, spinning around and kicking Eric’s legs out from under him, landing him square on his back. In a flash, Four is on top of him, pinning Eric’s legs with his own.

Soon the power is switched, as Eric flips them over to pin Four again. The flipping continues back and forth, neither getting up off the mat or truly making any gains until one last struggle for power flips them both off the edge of the mat and down onto the hard training room floor.

They burst into laughter and the room laughs with them.

Tris tries to feel the same humor as her friends, watching what was basically a glorified wrestling match instead of a truly no-holds-barred spar. But something in the last few minutes as made her hungry. She wants more of this. More of them.

The past few weeks of them co-leading sparring sessions has helped them for sure, she’s noticed marked improvements in their communication and they seem much less concerned with each other’s relationship with her. Four has even felt more confident touching her and letting her touch him. But the real discovery these weeks was that Tris truly, madly, deeply, is turned on by watching them together.

They sweat, they bulge, they flex, they throw, they fight and all of it looks like sex to her. All of it really really makes her want to watch this drunken dance naked.

After the boys’ fight, the booze is quickly emptied and soon their friends wander out of the training room in search of more. Tris, Eric, and Four stick around to clean up, and finish off their last bottle of scotch that Eric hid from his “grubby-handed underlings” as he grumpily exclaimed at the start of the drinking.

When the mats are wiped down and the towels put in the laundry, Tris comes to sit with the two exhausted and battered men on the sparring mat with what’s left of their scotch.

They sit clustered together, jostling each other, passing the battle back and forth, as the glow of the evening washes over them.

“Hey fucker, the last swallow goes to the owner of the bottle,” Eric exclaims, noticing Four is finishing up the final drops.

“Too bad, _Two_ , I had it first!” he pulls the bottle out of reach and Eric lunges over him to grab it. They scramble for the bottle before Four finally wins, gulping down the last sip.

“Haha! Can’t get it now!” Four brags, licking his lips to savor the flavor.

Eric’s eyes get wide and then narrow into his mischievous sneer. He pins Four suddenly, and captures his lips with his own, licking the taste of scotch from Four’s tongue. Tris heart leaps in her chest

Four immediately pushes Eric off and looks contrite and worried.

Eric smiles wolfishly at him and then turns to Tris. They share a look. As Four and Eric take in her expression, Four’s own face relaxes. He has never seen her looks so radiantly happy.

Tris bites her lip and her eyes sparkle. Eric looks at her with a question in his eyes and she nods. Eric leans back over Four and kisses him again. He releases Four from the kiss, but only backs away a couple inches.

“Eric, what are you doing?” Four grits out.

“I thought it was obvious, or has the stiff never been kissed before?” Eric teases.

Four hears a giggle come from Tris a couple feet away but he can’t move from Eric’s grasp enough to see what she thinks about all this. “You’re drunk,” he tries.

“That doesn’t sound like a no,” Eric cooly replies.

“Eric, don’t tease him,” Tris says softly. “If he doesn’t want to, get off him.”

“Oh I think he wants to,” Eric growls, grinding his hips into the growing hardness between Four’s legs.

“Four?” Tris says, or maybe she’s said it a few times, but Four’s eyes snap open—he hadn’t realized they’d involuntarily closed when he was so blatantly humped a second ago. “Four?” Tris says a little more insistently.

“Tris?” he sounds breathy and a little disoriented.

“Do you want this, Four?” To emphasize Tris’ question, Eric slowly rocks his hips into Four’s again.

When he doesn’t answer, Eric backs off, releasing him. “Ok, but your loss,” Eric laughs cheerfully.

Four sits up, confused, and glances between Tris and Eric. Tris looks concerned, but not unhappy. Eric looks smug, but more than a little red. Though the alcohol in his system might have something to do with that.

Suddenly Tris and Eric are both grinning at him.

“What the hell are you two—“ Four starts, but then he notices where both of their eyes are fixed—the enormous bulge in his completely unforgiving workout pants.

“Damn,” says Tris. She’d seen him hard before, of course, but never in public. Never so against his normal composure and decorum. Sitting here, hard, flushed, and sweating, Four was fucking gorgeous, and Tris was more than a little turned on.

Their wolfish stares do something to Four, and he feels something in his gut turn over and tighten, warmth radiating under his flesh. He revels in their gaze for a second, feeling powerful and desired.

“Gives new meaning to the word _stiff,_ ” Eric chuckles. Four turns and swiftly punches him in the arm. Eric jabs him back, knocking him on his back, but Four quickly grabs him by the wrist and yanks until Eric is on top of him again.

Four pauses for a microsecond, his nostrils flaring and his muscles tensing, before lunging up into a kiss, gripping Eric tightly around the neck.

Tris gasps.

They kiss for a few hot seconds, then Eric pulls back from the kiss until he is kneeling, straddling Four’s thighs, then grips Tris firmly by the collar of her shirt, pulling her into a bruising kiss hovering above Four.

Four groans, unsure if in pleasure or jealousy, and pushes himself up, grabbing Tris by the waist, yanking her out of Eric’s grasp and into his own.

Four presses firm kisses on Tris’ lips and then down her jaw until he reaches her neck, where he is suddenly compelled to suck a deep bruise into the pulse point, marking her aggressively as she moans in his arms.

He continues his kissing and sucking down her neck, leaving a trail of wet, red blotches across her pale skin. He is nibbling on her collarbone when he feels a hand graze across his cloth-covered erection. He gasps, looks up to see it is Eric’s hand now gripping him through his pants.

“Oh, don’t mind me over here, just go about what you were doing,” Eric chuckles, continuing his slow, teasing strokes across Four’s hard shaft.

Her mouth unoccupied, Tris turns to kiss Eric, gripping him by his sweaty locks to readjust the angle of his head, deepening their kiss.

Four watches, mouth agape, as Tris sucks Eric’s face while Eric unrelentingly strokes him through his pants. Four’s eyes drop to Tris’ hands, now curling under the edge of Eric’s shirt, slowly lifting it up over his head. When his eyes trace back down to Eric’s now bare chest, they dip a bit lower, low enough to notice that Eric is sporting his own bulging erection, barely contained by his always-too-tight pants. Four is suddenly, and confusingly, glad that Eric always wears these ridiculous skin tight clothes.

Their clothes come off in a flurry of sweaty black fabric. Hands reaching, cupping, pulling, tugging, until each of them is glistening bare and there is so much skin everywhere.

This isn’t one of those encounters where you relish every detail. Where your partner’s skin becomes a map of their soul, where you mark every freckle and remember every moan. No—this is a wild thicket of tangling bodies. This is a nest of writhing snakes. This is a mosh pit of bruising kisses. This is a hurricane of moans.

In the sea of endless flesh, Tris is overjoyed. She barely knows how they got to this point, but she couldn’t care less. She never imagined something like this happening, even in her wildest dreams, but damn if this isn’t the most exhilarating, the most powerful, the most desired, the most Dauntless she’s ever felt.

Four is out of his mind. Literally, his brain is turned off and he is finally just letting himself feel and act the way Tris always tries to get him to. He’s normally so blocked by his own anxieties, but something about tonight has made him feel so free.

Eric grins wickedly as he gets an idea. He’s straddling Four’s thighs and stroking his cock while he makes out with Tris who is sitting on Four’s face. From his current position, he can see and feel how turned on both of these two are, and he knows exactly how much Tris has wanted to connect with Four the way she has with him.

Releasing Tris from their kiss, Eric leans to whisper in her ear. She nods so frantically at his words that her body bounces on Four’s face, who grunts, unstopping in his frantic consumption of her fluids.

In seconds, she is lifted from her throne, and for a moment she is weightless, held by Eric’s massive arms. Then she is placed anew, atop Four’s hips, his throbbing cock leaning against her pubic bone.

“Four, do you want this?” she moans sweetly, slowly rocking her hips so that her pussy lips stroke around his shaft, coating him in her wetness.

“Mmmm” he groans, face wrecked, body taught.

“She asked you a question,” Eric’s rumbling voice burns into Four’s ear as he leans over to pinch his nipples and stroke up his chest to his neck.

“Mmmm,” it’s all Four seems to be able to say, so Eric tightens his grip on Four’s throat, gently depriving him of oxygen for a few seconds before releasing him again.

“Tobias?” Tris tries, not stopping her soft rocking.

At that, Four’s eyes crack open a bit, and as he takes in the sights he was previously just letting himself feel, he almost—almost—starts to panic again, but then a firm hand grips his throat and squeezes and he lets all the thoughts out of his brain again.

“Yes, fuck, please, yes, Tris,” he croaks, hands reaching for her hips and sliding up to her breasts. “I want you so bad.”

She doesn’t let him say anything else, before sitting up on her knees and sliding back down on his cock with a delicious pop.

“Ungggghhh” he groans, his grip on her so tight it will definitely bruise.

She takes this as a good sign and starts to ride him, leaning down to kiss him briefly before sitting up and bouncing on his dick.

Eric moves to behind her and massages her breasts with one hand while he rubs where they are joined with the other. The sensation is almost too much.

Tris loses herself in the rhythm of it for a while, before the feeling of weightlessness returns and she finds herself in the air again, this time wrapped around Eric.

“Oh yes, please fuck me, Eric!” she moans, but he just laughs.

“Not tonight love,” he sets her on her back, pulling Four between her thighs instead. He leans in to whisper in Four’s ear, “Give her what she wants,” before taking Four’s cock roughly and positioning it at Tris’ entrance.

Four’s dick slides into her easily, she is wet and ready to be thoroughly fucked. But he just stills, pulsing inside her.

“Four!” Tris begs greedily, trying to get more friction by bucking her own hips up at him, to no avail.

“I told you to give her what she wants,” Eric growls in Four’s ear, his hand returning to his throat.

“I don’t want to hurt her—“ he eeks out, barely moving inside her now.

“You think I can’t take it?” Tris bucks her hips as hard as she can, eliciting a moan from Four.

“Fuck!” he groans, and bucks back, earning him an equally load moan.

She bucks him, and he bucks back. Soon they are pounding madly, wildly, harshly, the sounds not that dissimilar from that of the spars earlier in the night. Eric’s wicked grin grows, and he sits back to watch for a moment before jumping back into the action.


	18. JUST SEX

The next day is surprisingly less awkward than Tris expects, mostly because she wakes up in her own bed alone.

She drags her body, bruised from training and aching from the unexpected threesome last night, to the bathroom. The image she sees is worse than she imagined, covered from jaw to stomach in bruises—several small hickeys and nips from the boys, and several sparring hits as well.

She looks over this flesh of hers, traces her fingers across its uneven surface, and feels more beautiful than she ever has.

She thinks, _this is my body_. This is the body of a woman who follows her passions, no matter how scary. This is the body of a Dauntless.

She showers and puts herself together before bracing herself to face the day. Somehow she had completely forgotten that today is her first day shadowing Eric for the field portion of her leadership training, but she is immensely grateful that she won’t have to wait all day to see how the boys are handling the morning after such a…Dauntless night.

She’d never done anything like that even in her dirtiest fantasies. Even if it felt so right, but under the unforgiving florescent light of day she felt a little awkward and unsure, old Abnegation guilt bubbling up under her skin.

Seeing Eric’s face changes everything. He is just standing in the breakfast line, casually sniffing an apple.

He is luminous.

Tris gawks at him from across the Pit, and practically bounced her way over to his side. She could swear she felt pulled to him as if by magnets. Almost psychic, or just hyper aware, Eric notices her several feet away and without turning to face her, halts her in her tracks before she reaches him.

“Careful Tris, you’re boyfriend’s already sitting over there with your friends.” Eric feigns disinterest, ignoring her reaction as he moves on to pick out a muffin.

Tris feels his words like a sharp knife in the gut. She wants to grab his face and kiss him to convince him she still wants him too, but she also wants to slap him. It's even odds which way she will go.

“Eric,” her voice sounds both pleading and demanding, and Eric snorts a bit at her insistent tone.

“Tris,” he returns coolly. He finally turns to look at her, but his face doesn’t match the careful coldness of his tone. His face, instead, looks almost sad. Or a little like he’s given up. “We all know stiffs end up together.” He sighs, taking his muffin and apple and walking away to a table where Dave and Jocelyn are already seated.

Tris can’t understand why he is being so cruel. She thought last night was a big step towards this whole thing working out, but clearly it had been a selfish act that hurt Eric. She wracked her brain through the lust-hazed memories trying to find a cause for his reaction.

On the one hand, she knows Eric is right to stop her from touching him in public. She knows how it will look. She has already gotten enough shit for hooking up with Four so soon, and while still an initiate. If people found out she was sleeping with a Dauntless leader too? Well she’d look like she was sleeping her way to the top. Or betraying Four. She hadn’t thought of how it would look.

But even if Eric was trying to consider the optics, why did he not just say so instead of hurting her like that? What happened between last night and this morning to change everything so much?

She sits down next to Four without getting her own breakfast. He looks at her, concerned, with questions in his eyes.

“Eric,” she explains. “Have you talked to him today?”

“Sure,” Four says cautiously, unsure where this is going. “He approached me this morning and asked for a status update, and I told him you and I agreed we could handle the initiation debriefings tonight without him.” Four is direct but his eyes look worried.

“A status update? On trainings?”

Four tries to imitate Eric’s voice as he recalls their conversation. Tris tries to picture it how Eric would say it, and it suddenly clicks.

“Four, you idiot, he was asking how you feel!” It is so obvious to Tris now. She wants to laugh and scream at these big dumb babies, but instead she just pulls Four over to edge of the Pit where they can have a bit more privacy and shoves him lightly in the arm.

“That was a big step for him, you know.” Four clearly looks like he does not know, so Tris tries to explain. “Eric was reaching out, trying to check in with you, _about last night._ ” Finally with the last words, Four’s eyes light up with understanding.

“Oh he—and then I—shit.” Four puts it together. He basically told Eric to fuck off and let him be with Tris alone. He had not meant it that way at all, but he hears the way he spoke to Eric this morning replaying in his head and knows why Eric would be pissed.

“Fuck, Tris, I didn’t mean it like that,” Four groans, chewing his bottom lip.

“I know, I know. I'll talk to him.”

“Yea, and tell him I'm sorry,” Four barely lets out the words.

“No, you’ll tell him that yourself.”

Four finds Eric in his office later that afternoon.

“What do you need, Four?”

“I wanted to talk to you about Tris, actually,” Four starts cautiously, stepping into Eric’s small office and closing the door behind himself.

“I thought you already had everything sorted out,” Eric huffs, not looking up from his paperwork.

“Look, I was an idiot, I thought—“

“Tris told me what you thought,” Eric interrupts brusquely.

“Ok, so I wanted to apologize then.”

“It’s just sex.”

“What?” Four startles at this quick shut down.

“It’s not a big deal, it’s just sex,” Eric explains calmly, his placid face betraying no emotions.

“But you and Tris—“

“Tris and I are fine. You and I? Just sex.” They stare at one another for a few seconds, Four trying to interpret whatever is under these words. This is not how he expected this conversation to go at all. After a lengthy pause, Eric continues. “So no need to apologize, but thank you for your concern, you may go.” At that he turns his eyes back to his paperwork and leaves Four to shuffle awkwardly out of his office.

That night Tris invites both Eric and Four to her apartment for dinner. Eric makes no mentions of their earlier conversation and seems completely unfazed by Four’s presence, so Four makes to mimic his attitude.

Four’s honestly not sure how to feel anyway. Something in his gut feels off, but Tris looks happy again, so maybe he’s overthinking it.

At first glance, the sparse apartment where they’ve gathered tonight is much like other Dauntless apartments, equipped with some of the standards (a gun locker, a basic kitchen unit, a kitchen table, a sofa). But upon deeper inspection, Eric notices how much Tris has really made this apartment her own.

The space is neat and tidy, a stiff trait, Eric would guess. The few decorations speak to family—an old crocheted shawl he knows she didn’t find in any Pit stores, a framed piece of art that might (to the layperson, which Eric is decidedly not) pass for a fractal or snowflake, but that Eric knows to be a close up of a molecule component in one of Caleb Prior’s most recent achievements, and a small knife on a stand on her mantle.

The last item Eric can’t place, though he assumes it’s origins to be Dauntless-made, the object is older than he is and not in a style they currently make. Maybe an heirloom? A gift? As one of the only presumably decorative objects in the space, he assumes it must be important to her.

It’s this inspection that Eric busies himself with as Tris finishes plating their dinner, rather than put any effort towards conversation with Four.

In fact, until Tris calls from the table to say that dinner is served, Eric barely so much as glances at the other man.

He doesn’t look put out, or even avoidant, Four thinks. If anything, it seems like he truly couldn’t care less if Four was here or not. Completely unaffected. _Just sex_.

The delicious collection of dishes made for them occupy them for a while, and Tris is bubbly and instigates plenty of conversation for the three of them. Eric easily falls into their banter, returning her volleys with equal parts lightness and spirit.

Four tries, but fails, to do the same. But even on his best days—alone with Tris, he realizes absently—he’s never been the best conversationalist. But the easy mood soon takes him and he lets himself sink into his chair, legs drifting comfortably apart in a posture that indicates he feels safe.

But the lightness will not last. After they’ve lingered on their plates a little too long, Tris hops up to collect their plates and hurries off to the kitchen alone, despite Four’s protest that she let him at least do the dishes.

Four makes to stand and follow her anyway, but Eric reaches an arm out to stop him.

“She won’t let you,” he explains. At Four’s insistent glance, he continues, “She never accepts help she didn’t ask for.”

True enough, Four thinks, and he sits back down. He notices Eric’s arm lingers on him briefly before returning to his lap.

Tris returns a few moments later with a bottle of the same scotch and three glasses balanced precariously in her small hands.

“Anyone for a nightcap?” she asks cheerfully.

“Absolutely,” Eric answers to quickly.

“Four?”

“Sure. Yes, thank you.”

Tris plops the three glasses unceremoniously on the table and pours a double in each. She passes the two glasses to the boys, takes her own, and sits heavily.

“Ok confession,” she blurts, before Four has even taken a drink. Eric, having sipped a little already, now takes a large gulp before putting his glass down and awaiting her next words.

“I brought you both here on false pretenses. Well not false, I guess, I mean I did feed you, but that’s not why I invited you,” she rambled, not unlike her chatty candor friend, Eric thinks.

A gently nod from Four helps her on.

“I know it wasn’t planned and we maybe had some poor communication afterward,” she shoots a glance to Four, “but I really liked what happened last night and I maybe want to do it again. No, I definitely want to do it again.” She exhales loudly, releasing the breath she must have been holding through that whole hurried speech.

“You want to…” Four starts.

“I want to have sex with you both. Together. Again. Maybe a bunch of times, if you’re up for it, but yes.” She throws her hand up to her face to try to stop herself from more word vomit.

Eric swallows the remainder of his drink and slams the glass on the table. “I’m in.”

Four’s eyes dart to Eric, but can’t catch his eyes. “Ok I’m in too,” he says, still looking at Eric. Eric’s eyes dart to him then, for a brief, unreadable moment, before settling back on Tris.

“Eee!” Tris practically squeals. “Ok ok great. Yes! This is amazing. You both are amazing,” Tris gushes.

“So where do you want to do this,” Eric’s voice sounds almost playful. Almost bored. Almost.

“No—not yet!” she swats him. “We definitely have to set some ground rules first.” When neither offers any reply, she continues, “like what kinds of things are ok and what are not ok.” They seem to consider this. “Like I don’t want anyone touching my feet,” she offers, trying to be helpful. Both nod, both men already knew this about her.

She lets them sit in the silence for a moment.

“Will you and I still, umm…” Four looks more uncomfortable than she’s ever seen him but he is bravely pushing through, “just the two of us?”

“Oh absolutely! I mean if that’s what you want. I want that!”

His shy smile is answer enough for now.

“Eric?”

He thinks for a minute. “Who sleeps where?” He smirks, gesturing to the tiny bed and even smaller sofa.

It seems like that’s all the boundaries she’s going to get out of them tonight, so she runs to the kitchen to drop their glasses in the sink. When she returns, she’s wearing just her cooking apron, and holding a spatula.

“Ok boys, who wants to test the structural integrity of this table?” She chirps. Eric grins and stands up, unbuttoning his shirt.

Four sees this and stands too, walks over to Tris and starts kissing her neck, while she playfully smacks his bum with her spatula.

A few moments later Tris feels the knot on the back of her apron come undone, and two big hands slide up her bare ass, her back, and finally threading themselves in her hair.

Eric is careful throughout to not touch Four unnecessarily throughout, and Four notices the loss viscerally, after how incredible last night was. He chooses to focus his energy on Tris instead, pushing Eric and his hot kisses and his hard planes and his rough hands out of his mind.

Tris lets herself lose time in these movements. Her two boys lavish their attention on her in equal measure. Each seems ready to outdo the other with how well he can please her, can mark her, can make her come. And she is more than happy to be the object in this competition, if she can at least make them come too.

It seems Eric’s boundary question doesn’t matter, as at the end of the night both men seem keen to pack up and head home. Eric slips on his boots and Four buttons up his tac pants and Tris is too sated and sleepy to even care why they seem so rushed to leave.

Eric finishes dressing first, and opens the door, gesturing for Four to exit first. A tactical move? Four wonders. Four considers him, notices his tight lip and heavy brow. Maybe he’s just spent, but maybe—

“It’s just sex, Four. Don’t overthink it.” Eric’s quick tongue breaks Four’s thoughts, and he shakes himself out of it, forcing his feet to move him out the door and down the hall and away.

Eric follows shortly behind, whispering “I love you, Tris,” before he closes the door.


	19. THE BEST VIEW IN THE HOUSE

Over the next few weeks the trio repeats the events of that night several times. A few times at Tris’ place (never at Eric or Four’s), once behind the lockers in the shooting gallery, and even once in the barns at Amity after an Interfaction Relations meeting.

In public the boys are less playful than they had been, but no less cordial. It still terrifies everyone around them. It honestly has Tris a bit worried, but both have assured her repeatedly that everything is fine.

One afternoon Tris hurts her back loading supply crates from the Amity trucks, and a very bossy pink-haired nurse at the infirmary insists sex counts as a prohibited activity given her current injury.

At least a week, she says. Tris hasn’t gone a week without sex since she started having it, and was truly incapable of imagining getting through this week without it. How could she have to sit here and watch these men spar and run and lift weights and _exist_ near her without wanting to climb them like a Ferris Wheel?

And with all the stress of these Interfaction Relation meetings, she could really use a big stress relief like she gets when she can just exist in her body for a while, turning her brain off.

She begs the boys to come over to her place for dinner that night, to at least keep her company since she is supposedly supposed to be on bed rest for at least the rest of the day.

They do her one better and each show up with armfuls of groceries and gifts for her. _They take such good care of me_ , she thinks dazedly. If only they could help me with my other problem…and then her pain-killer addled brain comes up with the most brilliant idea ever.

“No, no way,” Four shakes his head harshly.

“Why, you scared, Four?” Eric teases, his voice dripping with venom.

“Hey, don’t push him, Eric!” Tris orders. “It was just an idea, Four, you don’t have to do it,” Tris gently soothes him.

“I’m not scared,” he says, looking only at Tris. Eric chuckles under his breath.

“Even if you’re not scared, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. Like I said, it was just an idea I had since I can’t really participate right now,“ Tris sighs a little sheepishly, feeling like she may have ruined this.

After a pause, Four asks, “You would really like that? Watching that, I mean?”

Tris can’t read the expression in his face so she just tries to be honest. “I think so. I mean, I’ve never done anything like this before, but I can’t tell you what it does to me watching you two spar…” her voice trails off and both men can hear the lust in her tone.

“It’s just that Eric—” Four starts, but both expectant faces stop any words from coming out. He’s not sure what he would’ve said anyway. Eric what? What was happening with him and Eric? He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t particularly care if it means he can feel those hands on his body again. Hands he hasn’t really felt outside of sparring in weeks. Who is he kidding, he’s in.

“It’s just sex, right?” he asks Eric, who chuckles mirthlessly and nods.

“Just sex.”

Four nods. And seconds later, Eric is on his knees in front of Four, pulling his cock out.

Eric gives head in the same way no matter your sex or your gender. He dives in headfirst and doesn’t come up until he’s satisfied that his partner is satisfied. He is a man on a mission and that mission is making someone come.

From this angle, Tris muses that his mission is probably finding out exactly how deep he can swallow Four’s cock.

Truns out, it’s _nearly_ the full length. As he bobs his head up and down, Eric also fondles Four’s balls, rotating them in his rough hands with one hand, while he holds Four steady with a strong grip on his ass with the other.

Four sees stars. He’s only started getting blowjobs recently, and though he would consider Tris to be amazing, this is _ungodly_. It’s the only word he can think of, because something like this has to be wrong. But maybe that’s just Marcus’ voice still echoing in his head.

He shakes the thought away and lets himself get sucked up into the feeling of Eric’s mouth on him.

Eric’s furious ministrations soon end with him gulping and swallowing Four’s thick, hot spunk as Four groans loudly and grips Eric by the longer hairs on the top of his head.

Eric wipes his mouth with his wrist and stands up unceremoniously. In all his focus, he hadn’t been watching Tris, but now he turns to look at her and his jaw drops. She is still prone in her comfy bed, but now she is naked from the waist down and rubbing her clit with her dripping juices.

He wants, no he _needs_ to make her come too. But she has already said she doesn’t want to risk having sex, because she knows she can’t hold still and neither can he. He knows she’s right, but it just seems so unfair for him to have to watch her and not get to taste her. So he bends his head down for one quick lick up her slit before she protests.

“Hey!”

With her taste on his tongue, he bends forward to kiss her, to stifle her complaint with his tongue. The taste of her own fluids mixed with the familiar taste of Four’s spend mingle in her mouth like a banquet of desire, and her breath catches.

“That was so hot!” she exclaims.

“That was—“ Four is about to say hot too, he thinks, but Eric finishes for him.

“Delicious.”

“Yea?” Tris questions.

Eric licks his lips, eyes still locked on her dripping core and the fingers that rub her clit.

Somehow in their elation, they agree to continue this experiment, and before he knows what he is saying Four has agreed to take Eric’s cock in his ass. It made sense, he supposes, neither of the men have bottomed before, but Eric has experience topping, so he was the easy choice to top tonight.

But now he’s bent over the back of the sofa, in full view of Tris’ spot on the bed, gripping the edge of the couch with all his strength.

“Ready?” Eric inquires softly, bending down to whisper in Four’s ear. He strokes the head of his cock up and down Four’s ass crack, teasing at his hole.

“Fucking do it,” Four grits out. It’s not that he’s angry, and in fact he’s far from it, it’s just that if he doesn’t start this right now he’s certain he will chicken out and some not very small part of him really wants to see this through.

“Whatever you say,” Eric rumbles still next to his ear. In one quick move, Eric thrusts into Four, but for as tight as he is, he only makes it so far as the head.

“Fuck! Take it out! Fuck!” Four growls, and Eric complies instantly.

“Shit, you all right?”

Four huffs, catches his breath. “Again.”

A smile ghosts across Eric’s lips and he complies, thrusting again, this time a little deeper. Four groans harshly and Eric starts to pull out, but the movement pulls a moan from somewhere Four didn’t know existed.

Eric smirks and slowly slides his cock back in even deeper, and back out again until Four’s ass is only gripping him by the head. And in deeper, and out. Slowly, slowly, they find a rhythm. Slowly, slowly, Four’s back starts to arch and Eric can feel the muscles inside him start to relax and allow him in.

“Oh fuck!” The voice from the bed catches both of their attention and they turn to see her watching them, masturbating furiously to their actions. “This is so hot, don’t stop!”

Eric laughs. Four looks him in the eye with a challenging eyebrow cocked, “You heard her, give the woman what she wants.”

At that, Eric slams into Four harder than he has before, and Four grunts. He finds that the edge of pain from being fucked adds just a little to the already incredible pleasure. Eric starts pumping in and out of him faster, harder, deeper. Four’s moans deepen and the moans from the bed get louder and higher with every pump.

Eric grips Four’s hip in one hand and reaches his other around the front to stroke and tug Four’s cock, now hard as rock again. The thought of sucking him off earlier makes Eric fuck into him even harder, and the added contact sends Four spiraling upward in bliss as his orgasm rockets through him.

Seconds after Four’s loud grunts signaled his orgasm, a higher scream rings out and Tris’ newest—and hottest—fantasy brings her to one of her best self-orgasms ever.

Eric pumps erratically a few more thrusts before he follows his companions into bliss, he and Four collapsing heavily onto the couch, still entwined.

The experiment adds a new layer to their dynamic, and the trio play around with a lot of different entanglements (after Tris is healed, of course).

Once again, everyone seems happy for a while.

About a month after her injury, the trio are collapsed on Tris’ bed after a particularly inventive session, when Tris can’t hold her tongue anymore. The three of them spend nearly all their free time together these days, and more than half of that is spent clothed.

To be fair, they also have been working together on a lot of projects, but Tris is sure their near-nightly dinners hold a different kind of meaning. In fact, she hardly spends time with either without the other lately.

And she is happy. So happy.

“What is this?” Tris blurts out, breaking the post-coital bliss.

“What is this?” Four returns.

She sits up between them, looking at each in turn. “I mean, what are we doing here? Like is this just sex, or are the two of you, you know…” she can’t think how she wants to finish her sentence so she just lets her words hang in the air instead, hoping they can see what she means. Hoping they can see what she wants.

Eric’s repeated words echo in Four’s head: _just sex_. He’s not sure if that’s really what he wants, or even really what he thinks is happening, but that’s what he agreed to do. He steels himself to say so, when Eric beats him to the punch.

“What else would it be?” Eric says, and though neither both of his companions assume the question is rhetorical, a small part of him is actually asking.

Tris, though disappointed, puts on a brave smile and agrees to keep their dynamic as two separate relationships and just sex between the three.

Four and Eric swear they are on the same page, but somehow the next week neither seems to be available when the other is free. It’s not like they haven’t been busy before, but after having their little trysts 3-4 times a week for the last month, a week away feels like being cut off cold turkey to Tris.

It’s almost like they got opposite schedules on purpose, because neither is in the same room for even a minute for the next several days. Uriah says they probably had another fight about Tris, and though she brushes it off in front of her friends, she secretly wonders if that’s actually what happened.

“Did you and Eric have a fight?” Tris confronts Four in the middle of the Control Room one afternoon.

“What? Who said that?” Four defends, as if she’s accusing of something treacherous.

“No one, no one said that. I just have noticed we haven’t been spending any time with him, lately.”

Four twists and tangles the words in his head, trying desperately to explain his actions—even to himself. “I’m in this for you, Tris.”

“What?”

“I’m not in this for him, is all. I’m in this for you.”

“So you were just… _spending time_ with him…for me?”

“Of course.”

She can’t hold back the tears that fill up her eyes, but she steadies her voice and doesn’t let them fall before she excuses herself saying she has to go back to work.

Sitting in the empty bathtub in her apartment with the door locked a few minutes later, she finally lets herself cry.

And she cries.

She feels like she forced Four into doing something he didn’t want. She was so blinded by her own pleasure, her own happiness. How could she have been so selfish? And he had been so selfless to appease her! She sobs herself to sleep in there, resigning herself to return to their separate relationships from now on.


	20. THE GAME

Despite her resolve to do the opposite, the next week she finds herself being pulled back into more of their previous routine. The first night, both her boys show up for dinner. They make pleasant enough conversation, they clean up together, they leave.

The next night they both pop by during lunch to take her for a run by the Waste, one of her favorite ways to get fresh air and escape the compound for a bit.

By the third night, Tris finds herself sandwiched between her boys naked.

It feels different now somehow, but Four says nothing that suggests he is unhappy, and in fact he initiates a few of their visits over the next couple weeks.

All in all, Tris is happy. She’s still wary and unsure, but willing to follow their lead on this one, and unwilling to complain about a good thing.

By now people have started to notice the weird new dynamic between Eric and Four. If anything they are colder to one another. No more of the heated outbursts, just an icy chill between them. It could be called cordial, if you were a politician.

They’d exchange the occasional pointed look, but otherwise they rarely made direct conversation.

This new behavior really starts to freak out some of Four’s closest friends, especially Zeke and Shauna, who have been more than a little worried about some of the strange things they’ve noticed Four’s girlfriend doing with the man in question.

They’d never seen Eric restrain himself and they’d never seen Four let go of so many opportunities to undermine and disagree with his supposed nemesis. It almost felt like he was planning something.

One day at lunch, Zeke speculates wildly about what might have happened to cause such a sudden iciness between the normally volcanic men. He offers up ideas to the table:

“Tris cheated on Four with Eric!”

“SHHHH” Shauna hisses. “Don’t say shit like that where they might hear you, even if you KNOW it’s Not. True.” She beats the idea into his head with her words and an equally vicious glance.

Zeke can be thick-headed, but he gets his girlfriend’s message. Don’t even suggest it.

“Ok…then Four beat Eric out to lead a new mission!” he’s still screaming, but at a much lower decibel now.

Shauna rolls her eyes.

“He bumped Eric in line for a new loft?” Zeke tries.

No one really engages him, so he gives up for now and digs into his fries.

But it eats at him, and he loses his appetite. And he literally never loses his appetite. It’s like a Pedrad family skill.

Zeke corners Four at work the next day, hoping to help solve whatever is going on with his best friend.

“Hey man, you all right?” he starts off low key, easing his normally stoic friend into confessing.

“Yea, why wouldn’t I be,” Four smugly replies, not turning away from his monitors.

“I’ve noticed some, uhh, things.” Smooth, Zeke. “Is something going on between you and Mr Law Man?” Zeke uses an old favorite nickname for Eric, trying to lighten the tone of the conversation a bit.

“Something like what?” Four still types away at his computer.

Zeke shakes his head. He’s really not great at this stuff. Uriah’s the social butterfly, the communicator of the family.

“I’m just trying to say I’m your friend, and I care about you.”

Somehow the tension got, well, more intense after that conversation.

Everyone feels like they are walking on eggshells, as if both men are so tightly wound that they might burst at any moment. Everyone is just holding their breath, watching every minute glance between the two, and waiting.

To Eric and Four this is like a game.

Foreplay.

Sneak glances. Flex and stretch their bodies and try to catch the other looking. Resist the temptation. Resist. Resist until the tension everyone can see between them can stand no longer, then sneak off to some private dark nook and fuck it out. They love this new game.

Tris loves pretending she doesn’t know what game they’re playing, happily prancing between them as if she doesn’t notice both their strained looks and the fearful whispers of all their friends.

She didn’t know at first, she was so distracted by her own fears and confusions. But she knows both of these men well enough that eventually she started to notice their subtle gestures, their unspoken signals. It took her a couple of days to piece it together, what with the last conversation she had with Four about Eric still ringing in her ears.

But now that she knows, she can’t help but notice every single tiny sexy stolen moment.

They play this game for a couple weeks, Eric trying to bait Four with snide comments, Four trying to bait Eric with…well mostly with his body, but no one said Four was that creative, and Tris giggling happily around them while her underwear grows wetter and wetter.

Finally one day the tension had ratcheted up until both boys were barely holding their jaws shut, lest they moan out loud.

They are in a meeting in the Dauntless leader offices. As a leader in training, Tris is shadowing Eric at the meeting. Four is there to report on his plans to update the monitoring algorithms for the Control Room.

Four is being an ass, giving only short, non-specific answers. Eric is curtly shutting down his ideas with whip fast retorts. They barely make eye contact, despite sitting literally directly next to one another.

At one point in the meeting, Max is grilling Four about how the new system would interact with the behavior recognition software Jeanine had provided from Erudite’s research labs, and Four is being evasive.

“If you want to catch weird behavior, you should put more cameras in the Control Room,” Eric jabs snarkily.

Max just rolls his eyes and goes back to the agenda, but Tris can see Four is at his breaking point. His nostrils flare and the muscles in his neck tighten.

In a low voice, nearly imperceptible to anyone but Eric, Four breathes, “I bet you would like to have a camera on me all day, wouldn’t you.”

Eric grits from behind his teeth “Four. My office. Now. Meeting adjourned.”

Tris can practically hear Four growling, and can definitely see the snarl growing on his lips, but as the two men stand and hastily exit the conference room, presumably for Eric’s office, Tris could swear she also sees something growing below the belt…

Still left sitting at the table holding an unfinished agenda Max is irritated, but not surprised by this turn of events. These two had been fighting since initiation. Frankly, though Max would never admit it, it makes them both stronger, so he doesn’t see the point in stopping it.

Besides, if he ever wants Four to join leadership, he’d need to learn to work through his shit with Eric, the insufferable ass.

Max knows Tris has a way with both men. Her relationship with Four is common knowledge, and he has seen the way his junior leader accepted Tris as a new leader in training.

He is over this nonsense and figures this would be a good chance for her to prove her diplomacy. Besides, she looks like she is itching to jump in. “Tris, why don’t you get those two to fight it out or get back to work,” Max barks brusquely, nodding to the door.

Tris practically jumps out of her chair, and in a voice that barely contains her excitement returns, “It will be my pleasure.” She flashes Max a wicked grin, and he just shakes his head, stacks his papers, and heads down to the Pit for a drink. These kids.

A few moments later Tris finds herself with her ear pressed against Eric’s door, biting her lip as she listens to deep hushed voices and what sounds like furniture being moved. She keys the code into the door without knocking and slips into the room quietly. Before her is the most beautiful sight she has ever seen.

Four is on top of his desk, his bare legs wrapped around Eric’s waist, as Eric thrusts into him in short, sharp, bursts.

It’s not the angry fucking she’d imagined, based on the way they goaded each other and built up each other’s frustration all day.

It’s rough, but it’s also tender.

Eric is stroking Four’s hair and telling him how sexy he looks. Four nibbles on Eric’s palm and groans on each thrust, getting words out between plunges, “You make me—so angry—and—sooo good.”

Tris is so absolutely stunned by the display that she drops all attempts to be stealthy and gasps out, “AWE!”

Eric stops his thrusts and they both look up at her.

“I knew it wasn’t just about me!” she grins, pleased as punch.

Eric smiles, licking his lips, but Four looks groans in irritation.

“Oh no,” Eric drawls, meeting Four’s gaze, “was someone having a good time?” Eric pulls his cock out painstakingly slowly until Tris swears she can hear the head pop out, with a huge groan from Four.

Tris squeals a little.

Now unsheathed from Four, Eric leans for Tris and pulls her over to the desk between himself and Four.

“So was I right or was I right?” Tris grins, standing directly between the men, she reaches down with both hands and takes one cock in each.

“Oh, I knew you were right,” Eric says, eyes shuddering closed at the sensation of her stroking. “I just wanted him to admit it first.”

Tris grins and gives his cock a firm tug as a reward. “And you?” She grips Four’s cock tightly, her nails pressing slightly into his velvety flesh. If it’s punishment, it’s not unpleasant.

“Ahh—I—” he sucks in a breath to focus, “I didn’t know. I didn’t think I...I've never felt this way,” he finally breathes out.

Tris relaxes her grip and gives him a few soft strokes. “You boys. Gods I love you two idiots,” she grins wickedly and drops down between them, pulling both of their cocks to her lips.

The men groan as Eric is yanked forward, finding his face inches from Four’s.

A few feet lower, Tris takes turns licking each cock in thick wet stripes from the base to tip, and swirling her tongue around the tender heads. She knocks them together a few times and tries to play with both heads on her tongue at once.

That’s definitely what she’s doing, she’s playing with them. Eric can’t help but smile down at her, but when he looks up, he sees Four’s eyes staring at him with an openness—a vulnerability—he only ever sees directed at Tris.

Eric doesn’t want to fuck this up. His brain struggles to keep focus with Tris twisting and licking and sucking below them, but he wants so badly to share this moment with Four too.

Four thinks Tris always crashes through every wall she finds, and this time she’d come barreling through the last wall Four had put up between himself and Eric. They had been fucking before she walked in, yes, but it was Tris who unknowingly forced them to speak their feelings. She’d made him admit it, and when he did he realized how much of a coward he’d been.

He looks up at the man in front of him who had so bravely offered up his heart—even after having it broken, and even growing up without any real clue how to love, even with all that Four had put him through, he’d been so brave. Four looks up at Eric with so much adoration, respect, and devotion.

They each hold this gaze for several moments, both in awe of the other and neither having any idea what happens next.

Finally, as the pleasure starts to ratchet ever upward from Tris’ insistent blowjobs, Eric leans in until their faces are a breath apart, and their noses rest on each other’s cheeks. Eric breathes in Four’s sweat-drenched scent deep, and as he exhales he whispers into Four’s ear, “Tobias..”

At the single word, Four comes, shooting his load all over Tris’ face and Eric’s own cock and stomach.

Tris moans with delight and sucks until he finishes coming, while Eric pulls his face in for a soft, but pleading kiss.

As soon as Four’s spent dick pops out of Tris’ mouth, Four drops to his knees next to her, and takes Eric’s cock from her hand, plunging it deep into his throat.

He has never done this before. Four was nearly always the recipient of Eric’s touch—rarely did he take matters into his own hands, let alone mouth, even when they didn’t have a Tris buffer.

But at this moment, Eric is nearly balls deep into Four’s throat, as Four pulls Eric’s pants the rest of the way down from his thighs and grips him firmly by the ass cheeks, planting himself as close to flush with Eric’s body as his lips can reach.

And then Four’s muscle deep grip starts to rock Eric’s hips in and out, in and out, slowly showing Eric how to face fuck him.

Eric looks down at the kneeling man in front of him, choking on his cock and literally asking him to face fuck him. Eric could not have been more amazed by the fucking incredible partners he’d found.

He threads his fingers through Four’s hair, and places the other hand behind Four’s neck, and waits until Four drops his hands and relaxes, showing him he is ready.

When he is, Eric starts bucking—quick short bucks at first, and then deep slow plunges that leave Four gagging, and finally a blisteringly fast humping that leaves Eric’s cock slick with dripping slobber and Four’s face flushed and eyes glassy.

In those wild moments, Tris looks on in glee as Four relinquishes control—something he never did—and allows himself to see Eric as his partner, not just hers. The sight nearly brings tears to her eyes.

What can she say, blowjobs make her sentimental.

Just then Eric’s cocks slips out of Four’s throat with a resounding smack and hot sticky come flies onto Four’s wrecked face. Eric groans loudly and then drops to his knees, like he’d gone completely weak from his orgasm.

Four sits in stunned pleasured silence for a few seconds before he feels something wet on his cheek, well something other than the come. Tris is licking him. More specifically, Tris is licking the sticky remnants of Eric’s orgasm and Four’s own slobber off his cheek. Four is so blissed out he couldn’t have even thought of how to make this a more perfect moment.

A couple feet away, Eric floats back down to earth and opens his eyes to witness this sticky cleaning, and immediately joins Tris. When Four feels the second tongue licking across his stubbly jaw, he lets out a gasp that sounds like something between a moan and a sob, because just as soon as it is out, Tris and Eric are wrapped all around him, arms and legs encasing him.

Tris continues licking and kissing his face, but Eric turns to whisper in his ear, “Tobias.” It’s all he says, but it’s enough. Four closes his eyes and feels like this, this is the moment he wants to be in for the rest of his life. He melts into their touches and lets the world outside their arms slip away.


	21. PLAYING CHICKEN

The next day Four sits at the lunch table with Tris, calm and pleasant in a way that seems almost wrong for Four.

Shauna is examining his expression suspiciously when Eric walks up behind them and drops his tray loudly next to Four’s. Four looks up, smiles, and goes back to his food. Eric sits down next to him and they continue to eat and chat with others at the table and each other and the whole group is confused.

These two have been moments away from snapping each other’s throats for weeks, but suddenly they’re what-chummy? Is this almost scarier than the icey tension of before?

Lynn and Uriah whisper about it at their table in the mess hall, but Tris, Four, and Eric seem strangely unfazed. Like this is normal.

“Is this a test?” Will whispers.

“I think they’re playing chicken,” Zeke suggests. “See who breaks first.”

“Civility Chicken?” Shauna admonishes.

“Ever heard the phrase ‘kill them with kindness’?” Lynn quips.

“Surprised you know anything about kindness,” Uriah chuckles, but Lynn jabs him in the ribs.

“It’s gonna be Four” Zeke announces, after a pause.

“What is?” Uriah asks.

“Haven’t you been listening?” Shauna chides Uriah, then to Zeke asks, “Why Four? You don’t think Eric’s temper will get the better of him?” They are only keeping their voices slightly down at this point, barely caring if their friends a few feet away can hear their critiques.

“Erudites know how to manipulate, and they are patient,” Zeke makes his case.

“Girls know how to manipulate…” Uriah sighs with melancholy.

“Fuck Uriah, can you go through one meal without talking about her?!” Lynn huffs.

The group breaks out into discussions, their conversations slowly easing away from the strange energy between Four and Eric today, and soon their attention on the three is all but gone.

All the while Eric, Four, and Tris have been casually eating their food, talking about their plan for the changes to initiation for next year, smiling, and being totally, alarmingly, confusingly normal.

Beneath the table is a different story though. Zeke was right that they are playing chicken, but wrong about the kind.

Tris and Eric each have one hand on top of the table, for eating purposes, and one hand under the table, stroking maddeningly slowly and gently over Four’s growing bulge. Eric and Tris have taken it as a competition, though who’s to say who the winner is.

They take turns stroking, squeezing, tugging, and scratching the lap between them.

After a few minutes of these increasing teasings, Four drops his fork, coughs, and puts his elbows on the table to steady himself. The other diners hardly notice, wrapped up as they are in their own conversations, so Four rests his head on his fists on the table, curving his back, to push his hips to the edge of the seat.

Below the table, two hands have crept their way past the waistband of Four’s boxers. Two hands, both so strong, but one tiny and the other huge, reach down into his boxers to take hold of him—her swirling her fingers on his sensitive tip, him gripping the shaft, nearly encasing it in his sizable palm.

Without unzipping him, there is little space to move, but that is fine since neither Eric nor Tris wants to give away what they are doing in case their friends across the table look.

To make matters worse for poor Four, desperately trying to hold it in, Eric starts teasing him.

“Great work installing the new cameras in the Control Room, Four,” Eric says sweetly, a totally not-Eric thing to say. “I love being able to watch your ass all day.” The way he says it makes it sound sarcastic, insulting, and to the ears of his friends, makes the joke of it clear. But Four knows he really means it.

Four had made sure to do some of his daily exercise warm ups in view of the new cameras, tagging those clips as samples to send to the supervisor on the project, Eric. Basically he sexted his boyfriend some hot moves and called it work.

The joke is enough to send Four over the edge and as he comes he screams, “Fuck, Eric!” and leaps up out of his seat, grabbing his tray in front of him, and mumbling, “I've gotta go,” as he runs out of the cafeteria.

Tris tries to look surprised and calls out half-heartedly after him, “Wait, babe, come back!” but she almost giggles as she notices the come literally dripping off her waving fingertips.

She pops them in her mouth, sucking his spend off the tips of her fore and middle fingers, pretending like she is chewing on her nails in anxiety over Four’s sudden outburst.

Tris glances over at Eric, who is staring hungrily at her mouth, knowing exactly what had been on those fingers. He looks at her like he wants to eat her.

“Shall I go kiss and make up?” Eric asks her, trying to sound as thickly sarcastic, and possibly threatening as he can for their audience.

“Yes, actually,” Tris snaps back at him, a little harsh sounding, but she is playing it up. “And I'm coming with you to see that you do.” At that both Eric and Tris stand up and hastily leave the mess hall, presumably to go after Four.

As soon as the three are gone, Zeke turns to Shauna and whispers “I fucking called it.”

Later that week Tris invites the boys over for another “dinner and dessert” with an ulterior motive. The same way she tricked them into talking about their first threesome. She invites them under the guise of celebration— she finally completed her leadership field training and will be taking the field test soon.

She cooks them their favorites: Eric loves Italian dishes and Four loves all kinds of potatoes, but especially baked sweet potatoes. She even steals some chocolate muffins from the canteen, so at least she’s not lying about dessert.

When the two are lulled into complacency with full bellies and happy spirits, she pulls out a half-drunk bottle of scotch and three glasses.

Eric and Four exchange a glance. For as well as she can read them, she is ten times more transparent.

“All right, just spit it out,” Eric says, taking the offered double shot anyway.

“What?” Tris asks sweetly.

“You don’t have to get us drunk first, just say what you want to say.”

“Tris, what is it?”

She sets down her glass and takes a deep breath before releasing it slowly.

“I want this,” she starts. “I love you both. And I want to see where this goes. All three of us. Together.” Her words never quite come out the way she means, which seems grossly unfair, given how often her mouth runs away from her.

“I want that too,” Four is the first to respond, almost the moment Tris shuts her mouth.

Eric turns to look Four in the eyes. “You really want that? You want me?”

“You know I want you…” Four’s hand wanders up Eric’s thigh, but Eric’s face remains unchanged. “Yes. I want you. NOT just sex,” though his tone has an edge of snark, Four’s eyes are sincere and soft.

“Not just sex,” Eric repeats, and then laughs.

They get a little more nitpick with labels later that night, and end up settling on a few basic rules, like that they are a closed triad now. But all in all, the whole conversation was so much easier than Tris expected. Everything with these two has been so much more than she could have ever imagined.


	22. MUFFINS

“What’s this one called?” Four’s fingers trace the lines that ripple across the side of Eric’s ribs, like fingers of muscles holding him together.

Eric, who is seated on a weight bench, his arms suspended above his head and looped around the pull bar.

“Serratus Anterior,” he drawls, letting the muscles twitch and ripple under Four’s touch.

They were working out. At least they both came here with the intentions of working out. Not much actual working out has taken place yet. Four got distracted the moment Eric stretched his body out on the weight bench, and they haven’t left the spot since.

Though Four is certain they will still work a sweat before they leave.

“And…this one?” Four straddles Eric’s thighs on the bench, curving his fingers from Eric’s ribs up the side of his raised arms.

“Tricep.”

“And this?” Four’s fingers slide down Eric’s taught neck to the soft spot above his collar bone.

“Trapezius,” Eric’s voice gets breathier with each caress.

Four dips his head down to the spot he was touching and sucks lightly. “Mmm, trapezius… I like this one.”

Eric chuckles softly. “It likes you too.”

“What about…” Four’s fingers trail down Eric’s chest now, his palm flat against Eric’s stomach.

“They’re just abdominals. They don’t have a fun name.”

“And this?” Four’s fingertips reach the top of Eric’s exercise shorts and trace along the edge until they come to Eric’s prominent V muscle above his groin.

“Oh that, that’s my Adonis belt,” Eric smugly replies, leaning back to expose it more clearly to Four’s wandering hands. After a moment, “It’s the transverse abdominis.”

Four traces the curves and angles of the muscle, stopping just shy of Eric’s cock. “Hmm… what about…” his thumb finds the small divot low on Eric’s hip just above the junction with his thigh, and presses down. Eric immediately squirms, that spot is so ticklish and Four knows it. “…this one?” He squeezes the ticklish spot again for emphasis.

“That,” Eric catches him by the wrist before he squeezes again, “is my iliopsoas.”

“That’s a great muscle,” Four continues his soft winding touches.

“Mmm…”

“But this—“ he grips Eric’s cock through his pants tightly, “is my favorite muscle.”

There is a certain easiness about Four these days, people notice it almost immediately. Zeke, as per usual, is the first mention it. “You look good man, you doing something different? You finally take that leadership offer?”

Four just smiles and shakes his head.

A couple days later Shauna comments to Tris that Four’s shoulders looked relaxed and asks if it was something Tris is doing, with an awkward wink.

After a week, his coworkers in the Control Room start to make comments. It starts with a joke about if he got ahold of more of that mystery happy serum, then a complaint that it was probably because he got a better chair than them, then one day they just start calling him Amity. New people would come in, and they’d say, “This is Four, from Amity,” and Four would just chuckle and keep working, completely unfazed.

A few days later, Max asks Eric, Four, Tris, and Lauren in for a meeting about next year’s initiation training. Max studies Four intently throughout the meeting, and especially his strange new manner. He was always so stern and serious, but now he has a lighthearted smile and sits a little slouched in his seat. Max notices that not even Eric’s more annoying than usual presence has fazed him.

Max takes this as an opportunity to corner Four after the meeting and renew his request that Four join leadership. Instead of his normal, almost irritated rejection, this time Four just claps Max on the shoulder and says, “It’s great to feel appreciated, thanks. I'm good where I am though, really.”

Max is flabbergasted, but something about Four’s demeanor makes him shrug and decide maybe the kid really is happy in his current position.

Eric, on the other hand, has gotten even cockier. If that’s possible. He swaggers into meetings with a lazy bravado. “Big dick energy,” the kids are calling it these days. His hips are looser, his sly smile easy on his lips, his hair tousled haphazardly. Has he gotten hotter? Is that possible?

“Who finally pulled the plug out of his ass?” Christina jokes one day in the training room, after watching Eric warm up with is headphones in and a slight wiggle to his hips as he stretches.

_He’s dancing_ , Tris smiles to her self. The memory of the Dauntless Ball creeps into her mind and she bites her lip to keep from grinning at the goofy lug, barely containing his rhythmic gyrations.

A week later Ronny, another Dauntless leader, comes tearing into Tris’ office and rasps, “Eric is going to kill me.”

“What?” Tris nearly chokes on her fizzy drink, spitting some across the paperwork spread on her desk.

“I made a little joke, gods that man is so sensitive!”

“What did you say to him?” Tris isn’t really that concerned, more curious and amused.

“I said they were exaggerating. Whoever told him he was the god of all men, they were exaggerating. But like, he’s been so annoying all week. Grinning and asking me questions about my life and bringing _muffins_ to the conference room. _Muffins,_ Tris.” Her emphasis on the word “muffin” makes it sound like a code word for poison.

Tris holds her laughter through the ridiculous, though admittedly accurate tirade, and instead asks, “And what did he say?”

“He said—” Veronica drops into a low register both to imitate the man in question and to avoid being overheard, “‘no, I don’t think they were.’”

Tris chokes down another laugh. “That’s it? That’s all he said?”  
“And then he smiled at me. Honest to gods, ear to ear smile. With teeth! The bastard just doesn’t look right smiling like that.”

Covering her mouth to play a chortle off as a cough, Tris tries to sound professional. “I will check in with him after our next meeting.”

True to her word, Tris spends her lunch break berating Eric mercilessly while he crouches on his knees with his hands chastely behind his back. Naked.


	23. MARCUS EATON IS DEAD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I mean, I literally called this chapter "Marcus Eaton is dead," but fair warning, Marcus Eaton is dead. It's not a big deal death, but you need to know.

The message comes to Eric first. He is sitting in his office in the leadership wing of the Pire when his data pod beeps with an urgent report from a Dauntless Patrol Unit.

MARCUS EATON KILLED IN FACTIONLESS QUADRANT E2.

SITUATION UNDER CONTROL. FULL REPORT TO FOLLOW.

Marcus Eaton. Eaton. Like Tobias Eaton. He knows Four’s legal name, and he knows he came from Abnegation, but he doesn’t know a ton about his partner’s life or family before transferring to Dauntless.

He’s met Marcus dozens of times in passing at Interfaction meetings, Council meetings, and even on the occasional patrol, but he hadn’t connected his name until now.

He quickly pulls up Four’s member file on his data pod, scanning the documents until he confirms that yes, this is Four’s father.

Four’s father is dead.

Eric doesn’t wait for the full report. He runs out of his office, messaging Tris as he does.

2: WHERE IS 4?

1: CONTROL ROOM. EVERYTHING OK?

2: NO. MEET ME THERE?

1: ON MY WAY

Eric gets to the Control Room before Tris and sees Four is alone. He thinks about waiting for Tris to come, but the second he throws the door open and Four looks back at him, he knows Four can tell something is up.

“What, what is it babe?”

Eric turns Four’s swivel chair to face him, gripping it tightly by the armrests.

“Something happened on patrol today.”

“Tris?” Four gasps.

“No no, Tris is fine. She’s on her way.”

Four nods and waits.

“It’s about your father.” Eric feels Four tense abruptly, and thinking Four knows what he is about to say, he continues. “He was killed today in the factionless sector. I’m so sorry, Tobias.”

Four sits in stunned silence for what feels like forever, but is really only a matter of moments, before shaking his head and sighing, “Ok. Thanks.” He turns back to his computer as if to return to work.

“Baby, talk to me. Are you ok?” Eric knows Four often processes internally more than externally, knows his stoicism well enough to recognize when something is happening beneath the surface.

“Fine. I just need to get back to work.” Four’s voice is curt, staccato.

“Fine. Fine… Do you want me to stay?”

“No, thank you, I’ll see you after work,” his voice formal.

Eric is lost, knows something doesn’t feel right, but he trusts his partner so he turns and steps back out of the small space, suddenly feeling a strange tightness in his chest.

No sooner does he exit the Control Room does Tris come bounding down the hallway towards him.

“Eric! What happened, what is it?”

Eric grabs Tris up in his arms and holds her tightly. He doesn’t know why he needs to do this, but he does.

“It’s Marcus Eaton.” Tris tenses at the name. “He was killed.”

And just like that, the tension in Tris releases. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Have you told Four yet?”  
“I just did. He seemed…off. Like he wasn’t even sad. But I know that can’t be right, I know he’s just trying to put on a brave face, I just don’t know why that idiot would hide his feelings from me.”

“Of course he did. Eric, Marcus beat Four senseless for most of his childhood. Of course he isn’t sad. Hell, I’m not sad.”

“He what?” Eric’s voice raises.

“I think you should ask him yourself.”

So he does. Eric and Four talk for several minutes back in the Control Room, while Tris waits outside. Four tells Eric about Marcus’ abuse. About the belts. About his fear landscape. About the things he used to say (“this is for your own good, son,” he’d say after a good beating).

When Four is finally done talking, Eric just stands and hugged him. They stay in this shared breath for a few moments longer before breaking apart and promising to talk more after Four’s shift.

As soon as he learns about the nature of Marcus’ abuse, Eric storms back to their apartment in a huff. Tris follows him there, confused but not questioning. Eric has big feelings. He is normally great with his words, but right now his muscles are rippling with tension and he isn’t saying anything.

When they get to his place, he tears through the house and into his bedroom, yanking open a drawer. He scoops up the contents of the drawer in his arms and walks—slower now, but still with determination—back through the apartment to the kitchen.

As he passes her, Tris finally glimpses what Eric is carrying. Belts. A handful of belts: some leather, some kevlar, and one metal.

Eric marches right over to the trash shoot and drops the whole lot down. He brushes off his hands like they had somehow gotten dirty from carrying the offending objects and releases a huge sigh.

Eric has retained enough of his Erudite upbringing to always want to be a problem solver. But now his partner has shared with him a problem he can’t solve. He has done the only logical thing he could think of, and yet when the belts are gone he doesn’t feel like he’s done anything. Four would still carry this trauma with him always, and Eric would always be afraid of hurting him.

Eric’s shoulders slump and his body curves in on itself, almost shrinking his hulking frame. Tris slides up next to him and tucks his head into her shoulder, whispering in his ear, “Marcus can’t hurt him now. We’ll never let anyone hurt him again.”

Tris feels Eric suck in a breath and on the exhale a flood of tears rip through his body. She holds him to her, steadying him through his grief. They stay like that for several minutes, Tris stroking her fingers through Eric’s messy blonde locks, her other arm wrapped around his body, pressing his cheek to her chest.

After a while Eric’s breathing steadies, and he slowly lifts himself back up. Tris sees that he is still shaken, but can also see love behind the pain. “He’s so lucky to have you as a partner,” Tris blurts out. She can’t help it, she needs Eric to know. _So am I,_ she thinks, but this isn’t about her right now.

A brief flash of pride swells behind Eric’s eyes, quickly giving way to a soft fondness. He takes her chin in his fingers and tilts her face up to meet his lips in a gentle kiss. Their lips press together and Tris can taste the salty tears there.

When their mouths part, Eric keeps a hold of her face, pointing her so she locks eyes with him. “We’re the lucky ones, to have you.” He smirks, but the earnestness does not leave his eyes. “We talk about it all the time when you’re not around, Tris. You have no clue, do you?”

Tris blushes a vibrant red and if Eric weren’t still holding her face, she’d be hiding as well. She’s never learned to take compliments, and this one feels almost too bright to even open her eyes.

But she is Dauntless, so she keeps her eyes open. She lets all the pain and passion and adoration and devotion in his eyes seep into her own, filling her up from the bottom until she feels like she could burst. When she absolutely can’t stand to bask in his gaze any longer, she blinks and says, “Come on then, let’s go get our man.”


	24. NOTED

“What about spanking?” Eric offers, taking the tub of ice cream and spoon from Tris. They are all three sitting on Eric’s huge bed in their underwear passing a tub of strawberry ice cream—a rare treat. Oh, and they are talking about sex.

Since Tris is new to Dauntless and had grown up in Abnegation, her knowledge of sex and sexuality is extremely limited. She only knows what she’s heard from Christina and what she’s learned from their experiences. And though they’ve tried a fair amount of things, they’ve never really talked through everything.

The boys have taken it upon themselves to help her explore the vast possibilities, and what had started as an educational discussion to survey what knowledge and what fantasies or interests she already had, had devolved into a sort of game. Eric thought the point of the game was to find her edges, her buttons, what got her going. Four thought the point was to share with one another their deepest desires. Tris was happy to play along with both.

“Yea, maybe?” Tris nods, seems to consider the idea of spanking with a little more excitement than trepidation.

“Noted,” Eric smirks.

“And slapping?” he pushes after a second.

“No slapping,” Four interjects sharply.

For a second Eric looks worried, he rarely hits a land mine anymore and Four has gotten better at communicating his needs and limits, so Eric just waits for more information.

They both know why Four would veto that, but they’ve all agreed that no one needs to justify their boundaries. They know Four has some off limits areas, but not even Four fully understands what he needs yet, so they just talk and feel it out as they go. While the two wait patiently, Four’s expression begins to change.

“Unless,” Four’s tone shifts into something deeper, breathier, “she slaps you,” he croaks, pointing from Tris to Eric.

“You just want to see me get slapped,” Eric complains.

Both Four and Tris make choked sounds—somewhere between laughs and moans.

Eric tries to hold back his grin and remain impassive, but the facade is clearly cracking. He turns to Tris and in his best indifferent voice asks, “Would you be into that, Tris? Taking your aggression out on me?” he challenges her, but she’s up for it.

“You have no idea how much I’d like to slap that smirk right off your face,” she croons.

Eric takes a deep stuttering breath, and on the exhale adds, “Noted.”

“What about pegging?” Four rasps, clearly getting a little more worked up as their conversation continues.

Eric’s eyebrow shoots up. “Wow, stiff, I had no idea you had it in you. Well, I mean I guess I did, when I was in you, but—“ Eric stops abruptly as he is jabbed in the ribs by Tris.

“You want to try that? Or are you asking if I would want to?” Tris gently inquires

Four looks nervous and awkward and his jaw is tense. Eric slides a hand up his thigh, either to soothe him or tease him even more. Regardless of Eric’s motive, it seems to help.

“I mean, I've already had your cock up my ass,” Four huffs brazenly at Eric, and then softer, to Tris, “I thought it would be nice, to maybe have you inside me too?” It sounds like a question and his eyes are so hopeful that Tris answers him with a kiss on the lips.

“Then definitely, yes.”

Four smiles, and after a few seconds, Eric adds, “Noted,” and Four laughs.

“I would try it too, you know.” Eric admits softly. Four and Tris both just stare.

“Try what? Pegging?” Tris asks, incredulous.

“Yes. Well, also, for you,” he says looking at Four. “I’d bottom for you, if you ever wanted to do that.” For a second he just looks at them earnestly, before both Tris and Four burst into laughter. “What? You don’t believe me?” Eric snaps, playfully.

“Eric, babe, you’ve never so much as let someone else drive the Ranger, why would we ever think you would bottom?” Tris retorts lovingly.

“What does that have to do with—“

“Bottoming isn’t as easy as you might think,” Four interjects. “I'm not sure you could take it.” He sounds dead serious but there is a tiny glint in his eye.

“You won’t even give up control of the spoon!” Tris squeals, wrestling the ice cream back from Eric, taking another bite.

“So maybe I'm not as selfless as you stiffs, but I would still do it, for either of you,” he declares, like it’s the final answer. Tris and Four just giggle and trade snide glances.

Eric cocks an eyebrow at Tris, spoon hanging out of her mouth. “What about food stuff?”

Tris takes another scoop of the ice cream and smiles sweetly back at Eric. “You mean like this?” In a flash she catapults her spoonful of ice cream across the bed onto Eric’s bare chest. The ice cream hits with a splat and drips down the soft blonde curls on his chest and down towards the hard planes of his abs.

He quickly drags two fingers through the mess and leans forward, smearing the sticky dessert across Tris’ face.

Tris gasps in fake indignation and prepares another spoonful to launch, but before she can, Eric sticks his whole hand into to the tub and scoops out enough to nearly cover Tris’ pale stomach.

The two continue to shriek and finger paint one another, play fighting as the bed just gets messier and messier. Four eyes them hungrily, content to watch this all night. He doesn’t get to watch much longer though, because as if by some telepathic agreement, both Tris and Eric turn towards him and pounce, dragging him down into their sticky strawberry mess.

Later, when most of the syrupy goodness has been licked off of their skin (“We can’t waste it!” Eric had argued), Tris sits between her sated and dazed lovers, both sprawled out belly up on either side of her, completely naked. she traces her nails across the lines where they had finger painted sugary litanies across each other’s flesh until her hands grow tired and she slumps back between them, a tangled mess of sticky bodies. Just as exhaustion nearly overtakes them all, Eric softly chuckles, “Noted,” and then they are asleep.


	25. LOVE ON THE MATS

Eric is always pretty blunt, but lately he’s struggling with how to get answers from Four. He can’t just do a “dine and dish” (what he and Four call the not-so-subtle nights when Tris invites them over for some sort of “talk”). Four’s too familiar with interrogation tactics for that to work. He’s nearly out of ideas.

Except, he supposes, just talking about it.

But that’s too complicated, so he settles on fighting it out.

Eric didn’t have these kinds of issues with talking to Tris, but this relationship has developed so differently than his and Tris’. Partially because he and Four had so much more baggage between them, so many more landmines to tentatively step over, but also partially because Four is not forthright with his feelings.

Four shows his emotions in his actions. He rarely is the first to speak, but he will often be the first to act.

And Eric has to admit that Four consistently shows both Tris and Eric that he cares through small thoughtful acts, looks, gestures, and smiles. But as a former Erudite, Eric can’t help but need the words.

So one day on the mats Eric and Four are sparring, a favorite activity of theirs now, especially since drunk sparring. It’s something they wish they’d done a lot more these past two years.

Eric gets Four trapped in a lock with his arms behind his body, his back flush with Eric’s torso.

Eric decides now is his opportunity. Four is trapped, and Eric can get all the answers he needs. He whispers gruffly in Four’s ear, “Say that you love me.”

“What?” Four barks back.

“Say it,” Eric’s voice is cool and smooth for how hard they are both breathing, “and I'll let you go.”

Four relaxes into Eric’s grip for a second, and Eric slides his arms down the side of Four’s arms, relaxing his hold and just as Eric’s hands pass down to Four’s waist, Four spins out of his grasp, sweeps Eric’s now unsteady legs out from under him and pins him as his back hits the mat.

Straddling Eric’s chest, with his hands pinned above his head in what is clearly not a fighting hold, Four leans his face tauntingly close to Eric’s and groans out, “You first.”

A sly smile grows on Four’s face, thinking he’s got Eric trapped, thinking Eric would never concede such a defeat, never be the first to let go.

Eric simply relaxes under Four, and with the most sincerity and a gentleness on his face Four had ever seen before, he looks Four straight in his eyes and says, “I love you.”

Before Four knows what he’s doing he’s collapsed his weight onto Eric and is kissing him madly, hungrily across his face and jaw as Eric repeats the words, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” softly over and over, a stark contrast to the bruising force of Four’s kissed replies.

After a few moments of observing this passionate display from the doorway to the training room, Tris clears her throat.

Both men look breathless when they turn to see who has caught them.

“And here I thought you two came down here to fight, not whisper sweet nothings,” she says, smiling, as she puts down her gear bag and walks over to the mat.

Eric chuckles and Four stands up, reaching his hand down to pull Eric up from the mat

“I love you too, you know,” Four says, matter of factly when Eric is standing and facing him.

“I know, you idiot,” Eric says, punching him gently on the arm. Ok not that gently, because he’s Eric.

Four’s eyes widen and he socks Eric back, fully prepared to resume their sparring, but Eric ducks the punch and grabs Four’s arm and pulls him into his chest, embracing him fully in his powerful arms.

He stands there, holding Four for a few moments as they just breath into one another.

Tris watches with such adoration. It feels like her family is finally complete.

She has known for weeks that these two loved each other, even though they would each only say it to her. She had hoped they would work it out amongst themselves, so she wouldn’t have to shove it in their equally thick skulls.

And here they are, hugging it out on the mat like two big gay puppies.

She loves them, gods she loves these idiots.

After several moments of this, she collects herself, walks up to the mat and places one hand on each of the men’s shoulders, “You two gonna fight or should I take my shirt off?” She cocks an eyebrow at them mischievously.

All at once there are two arms on her and she is pulled into their hug, the three of them wrapped up in each other tightly, their breath mingling.

She feels the power of their strong arms holding her in like these two men anchor her to the earth. Like they are buoyed here against the thrashing waves of their lives.

Their heads all tilt down into the quiet dark space they share, sheltered between their bodies.

They live in this place for a moment.

Tris feels the incredible depth of the love these two men were sharing, and feels intensely grateful that she gets to share in this moment with them.

…but she also feels the heat radiating from their bodies, and it stokes a fire deep in her belly, and the memory of their first time all together on this mat seeps into her mind, filling her with warmth.

“I love you both too,” she says into the space between them, and she feels the arms around her grasp ever tighter. “Now take your fucking clothes off.”


	26. HOW MANY STIFFS DOES IT TAKE TO STOP A WAR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a no war fic, but this chapter explains why. This chapter also speaks to the age-old question, is Eric divergent?

Eric knew he wanted to be Dauntless since he was little. He was always whip smart and did great in Erudite as a dependent, but he also knew he felt stifled, stuck.

His parents had extremely high expectations, and were very rigid in their discipline. Their cold, loveless marriage mirrored their cold, loveless parenting. Their relationships were merely logical and for the betterment of the community.

Eric didn’t know he yearned to feel love, he just knew something in his body hurt.

His extensive medical research led him to the idea that his body desired a more strenuous physical regimen. His body ached to move and run and push itself the way his mind did.

He started working out, constantly, but his workouts followed Erudite specificity, the reps and order of his mechanical motions determined by algorithms and suited to his body by an Erudite trainer.

These exercises would only bring him to the peak of fitness logical for an Erudite, but they would never push him. They would never make him burn and feel that ache dulled beside the even stronger pain in his muscles.

He studied all of the factions in detail, under the guise of intellectual curiosity. No one batted an eyelash when he filled his room with books about each faction’s history and practices, but really, he only ever opened the books about one faction: Dauntless.

He envied the Dauntless and their freedom, their play, their movement. He also knew that he would be expected to choose Erudite at his choosing ceremony. His parents were both prominent Erudites, his mother a leader ranked just below Jeanine Matthews.

Eric was an accomplished Erudite candidate in his own right, one of the highest IQs in his class. He’d even caught Jeanine’s attention. As soon as he pledged Erudite, he was sure to be picked immediately for a leader-in-training track.

But he didn’t want that.

He’d rather go to—shudder—Abnegation than stay in this suffocating hellhole.

He knew Erudite had access to the aptitude test data, and he knew that if he had an Erudite test result they would never let him defect, even though they shouldn’t even check.

Under the guise of research he learned everything he could about the test, and when the test came, he knew instantly which choices would fit a Dauntless result.

He hadn’t known what the exact scenarios in the sim would be, but he had practiced for this so much, when he was actually in the sim he couldn’t quite tell if he was acting on instinct or using his Erudite knowledge to find and choose the Dauntless answers

but either way he got back his test result: Dauntless.

His heart felt something he was sure it had never felt before, something he couldn’t quite name. When he cut his palm and dripped his blood onto the burning coals on choosing day, he never looked back.

It wasn’t until two years later when a certain divergent initiate started talking to him about her experiences as a divergent that he started to wonder—was he divergent?

He still found himself using more of his Erudite traits than he’d care to admit, and on more than one occasion Jeanine herself had questioned him—somewhat wistfully—about why he’d chosen Dauntless when he had such an intellect, once sighing and saying, “No matter, at least I can put you to good use.”

When she’d started asking him to identify divergents in his faction, he had no idea that he might later question his own divergence. He had no idea that he’d fall in love with not one, but two divergents. He had no idea that he would secretly start working against her plans, finding ways to undermine her messages and delay her projects.

He had no idea that when she asked, “Eric, would you like to be a Dauntless leader?” that she really meant, “How would you like to be my dog and do my bidding even if it destroys your entire community?” So he had no idea that he was lying when he said, “More than anything.”

He was grateful that he was a leader now though—not because of the power and respect he’d abused for the past two years, but because at this moment he was staring down at dozens of crates of serum and Jeanine’s trust in him has unwittingly given him the key to saving his lovers.

Eric had, with a little help from Johanna Reyes, replaced Jeanine’s shipment of sim serum with simple peace serum, fresh of the truck from Amity.

He called Jeanine that night to tell her the serum test had failed, the effects were…undesirable. She was insistent at first, but when he patched her through to the Control Room feeds, it was obvious he was right.

Outraged and disappointed, Jeanine nevertheless remained impossibly calm. She said it would take her at least 3 more years before she could have another round ready for human testing.

It wouldn’t take nearly that long for Eric to collect enough evidence to depose her. But for now, he’d let her go on think the serum was just…having weird effects.

That was a really fun night in Dauntless.

It was also the night Tris figured out Uriah was divergent. She heard him cackling his usual laugh from across the Pit, assumes the peace serum had made him even more goofy, but a few minutes later he appears right in front of her.

“Trissy, what the hell, what’s up with everyone tonight?”  
“What?” Tris asks, meaning _why aren’t you like them_ but he hears the question as _go on._

“People are acting straaange, Tris. Shauna and Zeke are practically comatose cuddling—CUDDLING—on one of the benches, and Lynn—“ he shudders as if terrified “Lynn said I looked nice. _Nice,_ Tris. It’s gotta be poison.”

“Shhhh!” Tris quickly snaps but Uriah is still rolling.

“That new serum!” he snaps his fingers, “That’s i—“

Tris grabs him by the wrist, hard, and claps a hand over his mouth. He looks at her wide-eyed and then quietly acquiesces as she drags him over to a cove in a hallway she knows is not monitored.

When she lets him go, she turns to look him in the eye, but he speaks first. “You’re not like them.”

“No. Neither are you.”

“Is it because…are you…” he looks away from her eyes.

“Yes. And so are you.” His eyes snap back to hers and he looks terrified, and then relieved.

He surprises her with a tight hug, his arms circling around her shoulders and pulling her into his warmth.

She hears and feels him release a deep sigh into her shoulder. “It just feels good for someone to know, ya know?”

“Yea, I do.” She does her best to comfort him, as it seems like he hasn’t had as much time to process his divergence as she has. And definitely not as much support.

“Who else knows—about you?” Uriah asks, when he is back in his regular posture.

“Four.” Uriah nods. “And Eric.” Uriah sucks in a breath.

“Fuck, Tris, he’s gonna, he’ll—“

“No, he won’t,” she says firmly, both to reassure him and to defend her partner.

She still hates that he refuses to damage his reputation by letting others see the side of him he shows her and Four, but she respects his decisions, and his desire to keep some things private, just for himself—a feeling she never could have imagined a few months ago when she was still in Abnegation.

Uriah seems to consider this. He trusts Tris, as much as he can in Dauntless, but she doesn’t seem scared for Eric to know about her…and then an idea hits him.

“Is Eric..?”

“You’ll have to ask him that.” Tris smiles brightly, something that looks totally incongruous to their dingy setting and the dangerous nature of this conversation.

Tris loves to let her men make their own decisions. She loves that now that even with two partners, she feels like she can still be as independent as she desires and trusts them both to do the same.

Sometimes, that independence can get them into a teeny little bit of trouble though. Tris flashes back to the night before, when Eric caught her and Four packing up to do something royally stupid, if not also lovingly selfless.

“You two stiffs were so willing to die to save the rest of us that neither of you thought maybe there was an easier way?” Four and Tris stared at Eric, dumbfounded, and a little guilty. “Well good thing I'm always here to swoop in and save your asses.”

He was so angry at them when he’d caught them trying to do this whole noble hero thing to take out Jeanine without compromising his own position in leadership. So angry that they could just leave him like that, even if they thought it was to save him. So angry that they would sacrifice themselves, as if he could ever live without them. So angry that they still, after all that’s happened, will always carry the goodness of their former faction in their bones. So angry that these two perfect beautiful idiots almost died when they should know to trust the former Erudite of the bunch to make the most logical plan.

So angry that they love him so much that they wouldn’t even think to ask him to risk himself. He smirks at them. Fuck he loves them.


	27. THE DAUNTLESS INQUISITION

The trio agree in bed one night that they want this to be out in the open.

By now, Eric has already told his two best friends, Jocelyn and Dave, who were not really that surprised. It helped smooth out Tris’ relationship with Josh, and had the added bonus of getting them a hot tip on a new place that would fit all three of them. They had moved in under the radar a couple weeks ago, but hadn’t emptied their own apartments yet, for appearances.

Four and Tris share a friend group though, and most of those people still hate Eric. Tris and Four have been trying to talk him up, or rather play down how bad he is, even forcing Eric to show off some of his more amiable qualities, like his beer pong skills. This hasn’t really improved his standing in the group all that much, and most of their initiation-mates still barely tolerate him, if not ignore him entirely.

They agree nonetheless that it’s time to tell them all.

Tris says she wants to tell Christina first, because if Christina hears it from someone else she will kill them all, and she has such a big mouth that maybe it will save them the effort of telling the others.

They agree that Tris will tell Christina at lunch.

Tris heads to the mess hall early and the boys stay behind to give her some time alone with this. She gets to the table with Christina and Will, but none of the others are there yet.

She tries to think of what to say. Usually words just pour out when she doesn’t mean for them to, but right now none will come.

She starts a couple times but Christina is such a talker, it’s hard to get her slow ideas out.

Several minutes later Four and Eric walk into the mess hall together. Eric is wearing a mischievous smile and saying something softly to Four who is looking at the ground. Christina and Will speculate that Eric is probably saying something cruel about Eric’s most recent failure (he took the blame for the bad “tracking” serum experience), but they stop talking abruptly when Eric spanks Four hard on the ass.

He grabs one cheek, giving it a squeeze as he winks and walks away. Four looks up and looks completely scandalized, but is also blushing just the smallest amount.

Christina and Will think he must be freaking out, about to explode with rage, probably going to fight Eric.

Tris keeps trying to get a word in to explain, but Four just comes and sits next to Tris

and acts like nothing happened. They all awkwardly go on with their lunch in near silence for several minutes. It takes the first two for Four’s happy haze to fade enough to notice the situation, realizing that Tris hasn’t spilled the beans yet.

Finally Tris decides to just explain her new relationship, starting with some vague hints, and working her way up to ridiculous extended metaphors.

She uses a metaphor about choosing between the chocolate cake and the fizzy drinks. “They are not the same thing,” Christina says, this making absolutely no sense to her.

“Right, exactly—they meet different needs.” Tris thinks she’s found a hook, but Christina has not caught on.

“They’re both food?” Will adds, trying to be helpful.

Tris puts her palm to her forehead, and Four wraps his arm around her, giving her a squeeze of encouragement.

“Ok, so sure, they’re both food, but like different kinds of food, enough that it doesn’t make sense to have to pick one or the other.”

“Well if you have both, you could become nauseous due to their high sugar intake, and the calories are sure to offset at least a meal…” Will thinks they are having an intellectual debate, but the two women turn and glare at him, so he trails off into silence again.

Four’s mouth is turned up in the corners, something approximating a shy smile.

Tris takes a deep breath and lets the air out all at once, facing Christina dead on. She catches Christina’s eyes, and is about to just let it out when she sees Christina’s gaze shift to just over her shoulder.

Eric is back from the lunch line standing behind her and Four with a huge tray of food, which he sets down in front of Tris and Four. He puts his arms around both of them

in a way that could be read as creepy and predatory from the outside, and says, “For my two favorite stiffs,” with a wicked grin.

Christina is aghast. And speechless. Actually fucking speechless.

Eric, unaware of the affect of his actions on the normally chatty Candor, plants a kiss on each of their cheeks and goes back to the drink station to grab drinks.

“What the hell was that? What did you guys do to get on his bad side today? I guess I shouldn’t ask, since he’s always a dick to you both, but usually you two give as good as you get—“ Christina cuts off her rant suddenly and looks at them both, wide eyed.

In a serious tone, Christina asks, “What does he have on you?”

Tris looks up at Four, they share a look, Tris gives a little smile and Four nods.

“Everything,” Tris says.

She’s about to tell Christina and Will the truth but then Eric is back with drinks for him and Tris and Four. When Eric comes back to the table, Will and Christina feign normalcy, but he sits right on the other side of Tris, and Christina can barely hold back her questions.

Christina thinks Eric is going to kill them or is spying or something so she starts talking rapid fire about innocuous things, using her excellent conversational skills to fill the intense silence.

Eric puts his arm around Tris’ shoulder, and everyone goes quiet at the table. Well, Christina goes quiet.

Eric looks up and asks, “What? What’d I miss?” He looks over to see Four and Tris with their heads down, Four laughing softly, and Tris shaking her head in amused frustration. “You haven’t told her?” Eric asks them, incredulously, gesturing to the now silent former Candor.

Christina looks serious. “Tell me what?”

“What have you been talking about the whole time I've been getting your scrawny asses food?” Eric looks at his partners with feigned indignity. Tris can’t help but giggle and Four looks at Eric apologetically.

“Tell me what?!” Christina exclaims.

Tris just looks up, glances over at Eric, then over at Four, then in one fast move turns and plants a kiss on Eric’s lips, her arm wrapping behind his head.

“Cute, stiff, but I don’t think you answered her question,” Eric teases, when their lips separate a few moments later. His voice is a little breathier than normal but he tries to cover it by sounding gruff.

Christina’s mouth hangs open, and for the second time in as many minutes she has nothing to say.

Tris sits back and faces her friend directly. “Christina, you are my best friend,” Tris starts, slowly. “Oh and Will, you know I love you too,” she corrects quickly, she’d almost forgotten he was even there. “And I also love Eric. And Four. And they love each other.”

Four blushes furiously and Eric grins from ear to ear.

“But they hate each other,” Christina protests, glancing between the two men on either side of her best friend.

Tris is honestly a bit surprised that this was the part Christina wanted to address first.

“Don’t get me wrong, I still think he’s a scrawny insufferable stiff,” Eric quips, “but it seems I have a thing for those,” he continues, softer, fondly looking at his loves.

“And I have a thing for reckless stubborn blondes,” Four huffs back at him.

“Who can kick your ass,” Eric adds, a wicked smile growing on his face. “Isn’t that what you like about us?” he adds coyly when Four’s eyes snap to him.

“Did you forget who beat who in initiation, _Two_?” Four barks back, eyes bright

and within seconds the two men are out of their seats and fighting, play fighting mostly,

behind Tris, while she looks on with amusement (and admittedly a little turned on) and turns back to Christina.

“Apparently I have a thing for men who act like they are still in lower-levels.” She smirks at Christina, trying to play it off like she isn’t secretly terrified of what Christina thinks.

Christina does not acknowledge that the men spoke, nor whatever is happening with them now. She turns to Tris and urges, in a low voice, “Tris, tell me what is happening right now.”

Tris looks back at her boys, playfully wrestling with goofy smiles. Their trauma, the anxiety of Dauntless, the pain of old and not-so-old wounds is somewhat faded by the luminous beauty of their happiness in this moment. She can’t be ashamed of this. She can’t hide it from her best friend. She wants the whole world to see what she sees when she looks at these two men—hope, joy, family, and future.

Tris turns back to Christina and smiles, and in all seriousness she offers simply, “something wonderful.”

Once they explained themselves to Christina to her satisfaction, sure enough the whole faction knew about their relationship in a matter of hours. By dinner that night the mess hall is full of whispers and glances and enough annoying comments and inappropriate questions that the three decide to grab something from the canteen and eat at home.

“We can’t avoid this forever,” Tris whines, unhappily. She is so cozy snuggled on the couch between the boys, but duty calls and duty requires that she leave the apartment and actually face the whispering Dauntless masses.

“Can we at least avoid it for tonight?” Eric’s wide puppy dog eyes sink into Tris’ soul and it is impossible to reject him. They don’t leave the apartment again until breakfast. By then, they’d come up with a plan.

“We need to just rip it off like a bandaid,” Tris suggests over oatmeal.

“Like do a receiving line? An inquisition? Make a speech?” Four panics slightly more with each possibility.

“No, we throw a party.” Eric coyly interjects. “Think about it. How do Dauntless deal with any big changes? We drink. Usually around other drunk Dauntless, and often with food. And maybe a little bit of danger.”

“Let’s have it here!” Tris grins, gesturing to their new shared apartment. “What’s more dangerous than inviting a few dozen Dauntless into our living room and supplying them with alcohol?”

“So you’re saying captive audience, yes? Do we go ahead and rip the bandaid all the way off and show them the tapes from the night we had canteen duty?” He flashes a wicked grin.

“No, better—we do a dramatic reading of the love letters you leave us!” She switches into an exaggerated impression of Eric’s voice: “‘My dearest loves, I want to express my _utmost_ appreciation for your constant cooking, the damn stiff in you never seeming to fade, despite my protests. So I give in, you can cook for me, but please, I beg you, use some seasoning for fucks sake. Yours, Two.’”

Four claps for her performance, and even Eric looks amused at her impression of him.

“Yes, let’s absolutely do that right after they all leave because they don’t want to eat your bland ass cooking. You know what, on second thought, save that as a trump card for whenever we want them to get out.” He winks devilishly. Tris laughs.

“You two are so evil when you scheme together,” Four muses contentedly.

It takes her some time to process, but about a week later Christina plops down across from Tris with her lunch tray and blurts out, “Ok I'm cool with whatever this is. I mean I get it, I've seen them fight. So I just gotta ask,” she leans forward conspiratorially, “who is bigger?”

They decide to host their party the night before the choosing ceremony. Most of their friends are taking part in initiation in some way this year, so this is a great time to gather before the busy season takes off. It is also a year to the day from their own choosing ceremony, and Tris is excited to celebrate completing her first year in Dauntless.

Eric and Tris cook, Four scrubs the apartment spotless, and all three fret over everything all day. But by nightfall, their apartment is guest-ready. Four even remember to remove the restraints from under the kitchen table, though Eric insisted they would add an element of danger to the party.

The party itself was relatively uneventful, at least by Dauntless standards. A dozen or so of their friends came, some with their own alcohol, some with housewarming gifts. Some had questions about the newly announced relationship. Some made jokes. But mostly, they just drank and enjoyed each other’s company. It has been a long year, and this relationship is hardly the biggest thing that’s happened this year.


	28. INITIATION

The first day of initiation also marks Tris’ first day as an official Dauntless Leader. She is announced on the deck above the mess hall to raucous applause, before running up to the roof to meet the newest Dauntless initiates.

She settles into an easy energy in initiation. She and Eric complement each other well, and Eric insists on letting her take the lead this year, as it was her ideas that made it not the new initiation structure.

Not all the initiates quite understand their dynamic though. One initiate, a burly looking Erudite transfer, refuses to respect Tris’ authority at all. When she pairs him with a girl for his first spar, he flatly ignores her and turns to call out to Eric instead.

“I'm not going to hit a girl!” he argues. Eric just picks his nails, leaning on a post a few feet behind Tris. "They’re fundamentally weaker, and that’s a fact. You wouldn’t let her fight you, would you?” he questions, gesturing to Tris.

“Actually, he has.” Tris interjects, seething. “Eric.” Eric pops to attention behind her left shoulder. “Who won that fight?”

“You did,” he answers truthfully. They’d only fought in one official fight, a spar for her final leadership assessment.

He is twice her size, but she beat him handily. She’d memorized his moves—she’d learned a lot of her own from him, but she’d also learned from Four and from watching other fighters. When he jabbed, she got inside his box and climbed him like a tree, twisting her body around his shoulders to throw him off balance, finally pinning him between her thighs, immobilized, and unconscious.

Some said they could see him smiling as he passed out. She’d asked afterwards if he had let her win, and he scoffed, offended. “I was outmatched. That’s what happens when you pit a One against a Two,” he’d told her.

“Thank you,” she thanks Eric, who stays at attention, sensing her plan. “Now tell the initiates what rank you got in initiation, please,” Tris orders calmly, though her face is steel.

“Second,” he replies smugly.

“Thank you. Now tell the initiates what rank I got in initiation, please.”

“First.” A tiny smile curls up on his lips. Some initiates gasp and murmur.

“Thank you. And who do you answer to in this and _all_ matters?”

“You.” Some panicked faces pop up around the group.

“Thank you. You—“ she points directly at the Erudite boy who challenged her, “may call me One, until you learn who is in charge here.” Then, to everyone, “Any questions?” They shake their heads. “Then stop wasting my time and pair up!”

Behind her, Eric chuckles under his breath. He should not be this into watching her ream these dumb kids, but damn if he doesn’t love seeing her so fierce and powerful. These idiot initiates should be grateful to even be in the same room as her, he muses to himself.

The nickname spreads like wildfire through the initiates, and by the next day most of them are calling Tris One. A cheeky Candor boy even ventures to call Eric “Two,” to which Eric pretends to be furious and gives him a loud and public dressing down.

Secretly, however, he actually likes it. It makes him feel connected to his partners, like some shared joke, but it also felt right to be second to Tris. She has always been, will always be the brightest burning flame. He burns cold and in calculated bursts, but she could set the world alight.

He does nothing to stop the spread of her reputation among the initiates, and in fact, he does everything in his power to play up her dominance over him. If they know that this tiny blonde firecracker can easily subdue him, given his own size and power, they will never doubt her ability to lead them.

Later that week, Tris has the initiates circle up by the throwing knife targets in the training room. She invited Four in to give a demonstration on proper technique.

“I brought a Dauntless legend here to teach you throwing form,” she tells the group of initiates. “He taught me how to throw and once he even threw some knives at my head while I stood in front of that target,” she gestures to their left a little wistfully, “but that’s another story.” Most initiates look terrified. “Initiates, meet Four,” she announces. Four nods his head humbly.

“Four?” a Candor transfer pipes up. “Like how she’s One, and he’s Two?” he adds, pointing to Tris and Eric, respectively.

Four smirks and Eric cocks an eyebrow.

“Eric?” Tris demands. He stands back at attention. “The year you got second in your initiate class, who got first?”

“Four.” He tries and fails to hold back a grin, which makes him look a little rabid. A few initiates gasp.

“Thank you.” She pauses, and looks at them mischievously. She picks up three knives and tosses them rather haphazardly to Four, who catches them perfectly with hardly any effort. “Now who wants to get a haircut?”

A few days later, the initiates are all sitting together in the mess hall scarfing down everything in sight to make up for their grueling days. The food perks them back up a lot, and flush with their newfound freedom, they are feeling goofy and rambunctious.

“Shit, here comes Tris!” the Candor boy rasps and they all try to look totally, absolutely normal in front of the extremely intimidating instructor.

Tris casually slides onto a bench between Eric and Four a few seats down from the initiates.

“Figures they all sit together,” the Erudite boy mutters under his breath.

“Really? I kind of thought they hated each other. Ya know, the way they all bicker, and that number rivalry thing…” the Candor boy argues.

“No, that’s all an act to scare us,” Erudite whispers.

“Dante’s probably right,” an Amity girl sighs, mournfully. “It’s us they really hate. They are united in one goal: to get all of us killed.”

“I bet they spend every night together coming up with new ways to torture us and mess with our heads,” Candor adds.

They laugh and go back to eating.

A few seats down, Tris turns to whisper something in Four’s ear, and then a few moments later does the same to Eric. The initiates notice.

“See! It’s a conspiracy!” Erudite says, wide-eyed.

“No, not a conspiracy,” she interrupts their conversation, getting terrified glances in return. She slides out of her seat and stands. “While I have thoroughly enjoyed hearing how my reputation has grown, I do want to set the record straight on one count.” The initiates just stare blankly, too scared to move. Eric and Four stand too and sidle up on either side of Tris. “We do all spend every night together, but I assure you, we are not thinking about you.”

She smiles sweetly and Eric snickers beside her. She turns to take both her men by the hands and they walk together out of the mess hall.

The initiates are all dumbstruck and some mouths hang open as they process what they just saw.

After a few moments, “Guess we weren’t as quiet as we thought.” Erudite awkwardly breaks the silence.

“Well that’s it for us, we’re officially dead. Hello factionless,” Amity whines dramatically.


	29. A WEDDING IN DAUNTLESS

Marriage was something neither Four nor Eric really believed in. They both grew up in homes where marriage didn’t mean love—though in Four’s case, it also meant violence.

Tris understood why they were so apprehensive about the idea, even though to her marriage made her think of her parents—not the ones she grew up with necessarily, but the ones that defected from Erudite and Dauntless to be together. Her and her boys are all defectors. Defective. Maybe even divergent.

She loves them to bits, and even though she feels like marriage would be an incredible way to show them, she feels like an even better way is by respecting their feelings on the matter.

That’s why Tris is completely and utterly floored when her two gorgeous, strong men drop to their knees in front of her one night in the living room of their shared apartment. Not that they hadn’t been on their knees in front of her before, it was actually a favorite position of theirs, but usually when it happened she wasn’t clothed and Four wasn’t silently crying while Eric grins at her like a jackass. Ok maybe the last part happens when they did this position naked too. Eric really likes this position.

But something is definitely different about this time.

Something about how both men reach for her left hand, hold it together in their hands and look up into her eyes.

“Tris,” they both start.

“We both fell for you the moment you jumped into our lives,” Four continues.

“And this thing you’ve made here, with us, is better than anything I could’ve ever planned,” Eric adds.

“We know that for you, marriage represents love, and family, and commitment. Even if I never saw it that way before I met you, I—“ Four stutters as his tears catch him off guard.

Eric reaches his free hand around Four’s shoulders and continues the thought. “Neither of us could have imagined wanting that, wanting marriage. before you—” Eric’s voice catches. “Oh fuck me,” he mutters as he tries to get his damn face back together.

Tthe sight makes Four laugh, which helps him catch his breath. “What we are trying to say is, will you please marry us before this asshole starts crying again?”

Tris, who has been holding her breath the whole time, staring adoringly at the two mumbling and crying idiots in front of her, finally drops to her knees.

“Yes! Yes of course, yes! I love you!” she kisses Eric, “I love you!” she kisses Four “And I love our family.” She pulls their joined hands to her lips and smothers them in kisses.

When Tris tells Christina of their plans, Christina gets very quiet, and takes Tris by the hands. She looks her square in the eye and says, “Tris, this, choosing this, is the bravest thing I have ever seen anyone do.”

Tris nearly laughs at the idea, but instead calmly replies “Oh no, Chris, this was the easiest.”

Some said their love was reckless, but in the comfort of one another’s arms in the darkness of a Dauntless apartment, this love was the safest any of them had ever felt.

Marriage rituals are specific to each faction, and in Dauntless the ritual is both dangerous and symbolic. Partners hoping to take the plunge into marriage must tie themselves to one another and leap from the top of the members’ entrance of Dauntless headquarters to the net below, as they did on the first day of initiation. Abnegation’s marriage ritual is simple and involves the couple making and serving a loaf of bread to their community at their new shared table. Erudite has a long involved process with genes before they even agree to marriage usually, but the ceremony itself is kind of sweet—a reading of vows, though specific and usually tedious, it can sometimes include some very touching sentiments.

Tris, Eric, and Four decide to include a bit of each of these in their own wedding. On June 13th, almost exactly two years since the first time Tris stood on this roof, all three stand on top of the building, standing on the edge of the hole to the net, and hold hands. In front of Will, Christina, Shauna, Zeke, Uriah, Lynn, Jocelyn, Dave, and Tori, the lovers swear to hold and protect and cherish one another.

“I vow to always put your safety above my own.”

“I vow to not let her do that.”  
“I vow to never stop teasing you.”

“I vow to always tell you when you’re being an asshole.”

“I vow to literally murder anyone who hurts you.”

“I vow to especially murder any spiders who come near you.”

“I vow to face any challenges we might encounter in our home as I would in Dauntless…but with fewer punches. In fact, I vow right now to never hurt you.”

“I vow to trust you, and hear you.”

“I vow to love you, always, even when you don’t want me to.”

“I vow to let you love me,” a sob resounds across the rooftop, and the lovers stop their vows for a moment. Huddled together in their private space, it is hard to see which of the three has broken into tears, but inside their shared breath it doesn’t matter. In the softest whisper that only her huddled boys can hear, Tris continues the vows.

“I vow to be yours. To be in this. To fight for it, and hold it, and not fuck it up. You both have given me the world and I vow to give it right back.”

They squeeze one another and let out a collective sigh, before Eric speaks again loud enough for the guests to hear this time. “I vow to let these dicks get home before sundown.” And with that, laughter ripples through the guests, and Tori steps forward with the marriage license for them to sign.

No one is surprised when they sign the official document denoting their new family surname: Prior.

After the form is complete, Christina, Zeke, and Jocelyn each take a length of rope and wrap it around Tris, Four, and Eric, respectively, binding them together tightly.

Bound and holding one another, the three duck their heads into eachother, close their eyes, and with a collective breath, throw themselves sideways off the roof and down to the waiting net. They brace enough to not clunk heads, and the waiting mass of Dauntless members cheers and claps and helps them down from the net.

They are carried on the shoulders of friends into the Pit, landing them in front of the whole heap of traditional Abnegation bread loaves and equally traditional Dauntless chocolate muffins that they had baked all day to serve to their guests.

After several minutes of friends and colleagues and initiates strolling through congratulating them, the bread has dissipated and they are left at the table alone. All three share a silent thought of _how did I get this lucky_ and as if by telepathy all three reach out and pull the others close until they are once again as pressed and bound as they had been when tied.

They stay in their huddle, breathing each other in for a few moments, and after a brief silence, Tris whispers into the air they share, “So who wants the first dance?” She giggles, reaching her hands down and pinched two firm asses before wiggling out of the hug and running to the Pit floor. As the music starts up behind her, the two boys look at each other and grin, both shouting, “Me!” as they shove and race each other to the floor.

They dance and laugh and kiss and fuck and hold and love one another all night, and, if the fairytales are to be believed, for the rest of eternity.


	30. EPILOGUE: THREE OF HEARTS

One day, nearly five years after the first day she jumped, Tris screams. She screams so loudly that Four drops his coffee and Eric nearly trips over his newspaper trying to rush to the bathroom to see what has happened.

Four is the first to get to the door, and through the thin barrier he can hear her sobbing madly.

“Tris, are you ok?” his voice urgent.

Two seconds later Eric is at the door, practically kicking it down, not bothering to wait for an answer. As Eric slams his shoulder into the door, Tris turns the knob from the inside, sending Eric tumbling into the room.

Eyes still glistening with tears and face flushed, Tris holds up the small plastic stick in her hand. “I'm pregnant,” she sobs. Before the words have even finished, she is gathered up in four strong arms as two large men join her soft sobbing.

They have wanted this for so long. Eric and Tris had always wanted children, but the first year of their relationship Four wouldn’t even entertain the idea. It took a lot of time, communication, and work on himself before Four got to the point where he knew in his heart that he would never hurt his child the way his father had hurt him. They knew he would be an amazing father, but they also knew he had to trust himself. When he finally accepted this truth, he was the one who had broached the topic to Eric and Tris. They were ecstatic.

The excitement wells up in them and manifests in wholly different ways. Within 24 hours of coming to their decision to try for a child, Eric fills an entire shelf with pregnancy and parenting books. Tris visits her mother, only to return with a box of simple Abnegation toys and a package of nutritional supplements Caleb supplied. Four, on the other hand, has baby proofed the entire apartment.

But the life of a Dauntless often doesn’t make space for having children, and especially not with two Dauntless leaders as parents. It had taken them almost two years to even get authorization, and with their rigid training and ongoing projects, they hadn’t started trying in earnest until last year.

But a whole year of trying had gone by and they were growing less hopeful that it would ever happen for them. They’d talked about adoption, but despite their own faction’s reluctant acceptance of their relationship, the other faction leaders were extremely reticent to approve. So they kept trying. It wasn’t like they weren’t going to be having sex anyway.

After months and months of this, Four had all but given up hope, convinced it was somehow his fault. They worked through their shared anxieties, quietly hoping but also accepting that it may not happen for them.

At this moment, Four plants worshipful kisses across Tris’ tummy, while Eric quizzes her about the specifics—when was her last cycle? When would she need to drop out of training the initiates? How is her nausea? The Erudite in him is desperate to know everything he can about his baby so the Dauntless in him could protect it.

“Three,” Tris suddenly whispers, interrupting the litany of kisses and questions from her excited mates.

“Three?” Eric asks.

Four understands instantly. “That’s perfect,” he smiles up at her, kissing three slow, deep kisses across the waistline of her pants.

“For the three people who brought this being to life,” Eric says, catching their meaning.

“For the missing piece in our little family,” Tris smiles up at him.

“What a perfect name for the most perfect creature ever made,” Four sighs happily.

Pregnancy in Dauntless is considered one of the most brave acts a person could ever do. It is both physically and emotionally taxing, and pregnant Dauntless are treated as warriors. Tris was an exceptional warrior before her pregnancy, but watching her take on the arduous task of growing a human while continuing to lead her faction is truly impressive. Her mates take the best care of her they can (or that she would allow), but most of the time she is more than capable of taking care of herself.

“Is this really necessary?” Tris complains when Eric shows up one afternoon with a ridiculously bulky and equally silly looking double-reinforced kevlar pregnancy belly armor he’d requisitioned.

“Of course it is,” he responds, taking no arguments.

She figures if wearing the armor means she could leave their apartment without two overly worried future fathers following her every move, it would be worth it, so she sighs and straps the thing around herself.

“I look like a turtle,” she bemoans, when it’s all snapped into place.

“A very pretty turtle,” he smirks playfully back, rubbing his hands all across the apparatus as if she could feel them through the kevlar layers.

“Well this turtle might just bite you if you don’t let me get back to work now.”

“Ooh is that a promise?”

She smacks him lightly on the arm. Eric mocks a pained yelp, then calls out, “Four, you better get in here, the hormones have made her violent!”

“You’re on your own,” Four calls back from the living room. “I'm still recovering from the bruise she gave me when I suggested she take some time off training.”

On August 9th, just after midnight, they welcome into the world a new Dauntless dependent, Natalie Amari Prior.

The trio announces the birth a couple days later, after Tris feels well enough to go to the chasm for the baptism. Dauntless don’t baptize dependents in a particularly religious way, and in true Dauntless fashion the celebration consists mostly of drinking.

The three new parents carry their newborn up to the ledge, and Eric lifts a bottle of scotch up, as his voice booms across the Pit. “Two days ago, my wife did one of the most powerful things I've ever seen, and as with all great battles, out of the blood and pain came a new life!” The Pit erupts in cheers

Four steps forward. “The Dauntless family has grown. We trust you, our faction, to love and protect her as our own.” Hoots of assent ripple through the crowd.

Tris, holding the tiniest Dauntless, proclaims, “Introducing Natalie Amari Prior.”

The littlest Dauntless gets the biggest welcome that night, with the Pit bursting with applause and cheers.

She would be home here. She would be safe here. She would be loved here. For as long as she wanted.

No one in the faction dares approach the subject of fatherhood with the Priors. They all know the three parents had equally made that tiny miracle, and don’t need to know any more than that. They hadn’t done a gene scan, but it was obvious the moment of her birth what her genetic parentage was. Staring down at the small bundle with her dark brown curls and piercing blue eyes, Eric is grateful. He knows Four’s genes had made this creature, and he is so thankful that he would always look at their baby and see both of his partners’ faces staring back at him. That is the greatest gift he has ever been given.

After the birth celebration, Eric and Four tell Tris to take the evening off and they would take the baby home. It has been days since she’d even so much as left the apartment, and they both know she could use some time to herself.

That night, Tris comes home, and the second she walks through the door both men notice the change immediately. On the opposite collarbone to where she had tattooed the three ravens her first night in Dauntless, there are now three more. As if flying out from her heart, the left collar bone mirroring the right, framing her neck. Her two flocks. Her two families.

Four carries the smallest Prior over to his mother, and Eric scoops them all up in his giant wingspan, squishing them all into their huddle. But their usual huddle has a new occupant. They expand to make room for this new member, each with their head tucked in to observe the sleeping newborn. 

“Welcome home, Three,” Eric whispers, the nickname something they share only in their own little family.

Three babbles back at them.

“We love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first long fic, and I hope you enjoyed it! I'd love any feedback!


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